


Over Him (So Into You)

by lola381pce, RainGirl696



Series: Who's Your Daddy? (That little Shit) [3]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Hawkeye (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Awkward Conversations, Come Marking, Comeplay, Daddy Kink, Edging, Ferrets, Fluff, Food Kink, Food Sex, Football Team debates, Ghost/scary story, Hand Feeding, House Warming, Kink Negotiation, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, Little! Clint, M/M, Mentions of Bearded! Steve, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Party, Past Relationship(s), Rope Bondage, Texas, crawfish, houston
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-13
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-05-26 11:56:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 48,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6237646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lola381pce/pseuds/lola381pce, https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainGirl696/pseuds/RainGirl696
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil Coulson’s life is great! He has a nice house, a nice car, a job he loves. Oh he also has the most handsome lover a man could ask for… who just so happens to be his best friend and business partner’s grown son. That friend also happen to be able to put the fear of God into trained soldiers with just glance. </p><p>So he has the house, the car, the job and a secret… what does he have with Clint?</p><p>Well whatever it is, sandwiches, barbecue and now crawfish - it seems food plays a big part in Phil and Clint's lives but food's not the only kink they have. Trouble is the current Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. is not Clint's first 'daddy' and when he turns up at the S.W.A.T. sniper's housewarming party things become...interesting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Daddy says, the color of the day is purple.

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Baby Boy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2284770) by [Not_You](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Not_You/pseuds/Not_You). 



> Here we go guys! The third story of the Who's your Daddy (That Little Shit) series! 
> 
> Be aware of the tags this one contains what should become quite extensive daddy kink with a little age play. Moore detail tags to come as we post those chapters. 
> 
> Could be read as a stand alone... But really why would you :-p
> 
> See end notes for information on a giveaway based on this story

Daddy 3-1 

Phil set up the last set of folding tables and chairs in Clint's back yard then straightened to wipe the few beads of sweat from his brow. He was expecting Tony and Pepper any minute. The engineer had offered to set up a Texas sized stock pot (which he found a little terrifying) and Pepper was bringing table coverings (which he found a lot more comforting). 

Once Clint had moved into his new house, Fury had insisted he throw the boy a housewarming party in the way of a crawfish boil. It made sense really, it was fast cooking and very little clean up. Not to mention the beginning of April was the perfect time to do it. Fury was actually at HEB with Leo Fitz and Jemma Simmons from SHIELD R&D at that moment getting at least a few bags of live crawfish that were big enough to stuff a toddler in. 

Phil gave a snort of laughter at the thought of the bizarre trio shopping for food. He could imagine Fury wafting through the store barking his requirements at people with FitzSimmons trotting after him. They were so politely British he could envisage them getting more and more traumatised at the whole Nick Fury Shopping ExperienceTM. It’s not that the former Army Ranger was being rude per se, he just didn’t know how to do things without using his “command” voice (unless you were a scared kid, a little old lady or a puppy). Besides the staff at HEB knew him and the generous tips he gave the store assistants more than made up for any eccentricities he may have which they generally found to be amusing rather than irritating. It was FitzSimmons he felt sorry for.

Deciding to enjoy something while he was alone, he grabbed a beer from one of the coolers then sat on the edge of the property by the water. He knew he wouldn't have long to himself, people would start coming soon. Then…then his self-control would be sorely tested. 

Clint and he had been seeing each other as often as their jobs allowed in the weeks since the rodeo; since the night when he pretty much defiled his best friend’s son with smoked meat and sauce not to mention spitting on the sacred text that was Barney Stinson’s Bro-Code. But there was no going back now. Not when you had a beautiful boy like that begging to suck your cock, or even just cuddle. Phil had always found it difficult to find a partner who liked to cuddle as much as he did and Clint seemed content to just lay in his arms and snuggle into him. 

Boy. Phil chewed over the word a moment. He had considered Clint his boy far sooner than was probably sane or healthy. Although Clint had made it quite clear he did not do relationships anymore, he did love spending time with Phil and fucking him - no label needed (though he had no way of know just how true that would remain).

They hadn't done anything wild or kinky since the Barbecue sex, but it was still good, very good. Just… vanilla. Then suddenly all that changed. After about a week or so into their affair while Clint was on his knees, face crushed to the pillow and begging for more, he sprung his kink on Phil. 

“Fuck me harder, daddy!” Clint had begged him. 

Phil was very proud of himself, he never broke his stride. He went with it, and gave his boy what he wanted almost fucking him through the mattress. It's not like he believed for one second it was some sort of sick incest or pedophilia obsession. After all Phil had a kink list of his own (which now included food). People used pet names like that all the time, it really wasn't that weird. And that's exactly what he thought it was… until a week later when Clint turned their artificially flavored vanilla sex into vanilla bean. “Fuck me, daddy”, turned into, ‘Tell me I'm a good boy, daddy”. 

Well…Phil could do that too, he often did anyway. If that's what got Clint off, it was fine by him. Only…it wasn't just Clint who was getting off on it. Phil tried not to think about how in that week their ‘good’ sex turned to ‘great’. Clint had a little daddy kink and apparently he kinda liked it too. It worked for them, that was that. 

Then Clint moved into his house after the renovations were finished and Phil began to notice little things when he stayed over. The first of which was the corner of Clint’s comforter was far more worn and stretched than the rest of it. The teeth marks made it quite clear it had been sucked and chewed on for years. But that wasn't too much of a surprise considering it was clear at this point that Clint had an oral fixation. He didn't think any more about it ‘till he found what Clint had in the back of his fridge one night. He’d been stashing beer when he discovered apple juice boxes, and pudding cups, and pizza Lunchables; there were also chicken nuggets in the freezer rather than Crispy Tenders. That was when Phil decided it was time to hit the internet. Not that it did much good or that he learned anything particularly new - except for one thing. 

During his search, he found several daddy kink and age play definitions, information on the use of safe words, advice on aftercare, and confirmation that it was infact harmless roleplay, nothing he didn't already know. However he did learn the children's snacks could be a part of age play. But, given that they were hidden from him (albeit not very well) he wasn't sure if that’s what Clint wanted. And unfortunately it seemed he didn’t want to talk about it at this point so for the time being, Phil would test the waters himself. Eventually they would have to talk. He would hopefully find out tonight if this went as far as he suspected. 

Phil was broken out of his reverie by raised voices coming down the driveway; one of which was trying to remain calm but had a thread of exasperation running through it, the other was like an overexcited five year old. Pepper and Tony had arrived. Taking the last swallow of his beer, he stood and walked over to greet his friends.

The next hour went by fast. Pepper and Tony had brought Dum-e and U hauling propane, hoses, a giant stock pot along with the snacks Pepper had made. Maria arrived with her arms full of boxes from Flying Saucer Pie Company. Fury along with Leo and Jemma got back with their payload just in time to see the arrival of the first of many guests: Sitwell, Romanov and May from HPD SWAT, Darcy Lewis from SHIELD reception, Bucky Barnes and the new guy, Steve from SHIELD ops. Not that Fitz or Simmons really noticed. They seemed to be somewhat traumatised after their shopping trip with Fury.

Leaving Nick to organise the crawfish and the setup of pies and snacks to Maria and Darcy, Phil decided to check in with Pepper in the kitchen where she was making sweet tea before things got started. He snagged a piece of fried okra and rested his chin on Pepper’s shoulder as he chewed. She jumped and let out a small scream making him grin. Turning to him, she swatted his arm before pulling him into an embrace and grousing, “Jesus, Phil. Wear a bell.”

He wrapped his arms round her and squeezed her gently back. “Okra’s good,” he told her trying to appease her. He felt her smile against his neck and knew that he’d been forgiven. No-one made it better than Pepper; it was never slimey or overcooked and her cornmeal batter was always perfect.

As she had done in her office the day Phil took Clint to see her, she pulled back to study him. He hadn't shaved which had left him with an attractive amount of stubble on his jaw and those intense blue eyes of his were framed by his thick, black-rimmed glasses. She remembered when he used to be embarrassed by them, now he seems to be completely at ease in them. 

Once again, he was dressed in jeans, black this time, and a soft charcoal grey Henley. The sleeves were pushed up to just below the elbows which made her smile. The girls at the office couldn’t stop talking about his arms when he visited last time - she had to admit, they were rather gorgeous. The buttons were open and exposed the hollow of his throat along with a few curls of dark chest hair. It was another good look for him. In the last few months she noticed that he seemed so much more comfortable with himself. Less tense. She touched the back of her fingers to his scruff. “You look well, Phil. Clint must really agree with you.”

Phil’s eyebrows came together in a concerned frown and shot a glimpse over his shoulder; everyone was outside. He forced himself to relax and ducked his head giving her a guilty smile as he looked up at her.

She narrowed her eyes giving him a strange look and then it dawned on her. “Oh my god, Phil. No-one knows, do they?”

He gave her a little shrug and folded his arms across his chest as he leaned back against the kitchen surface. He dropped his head forward to stare at the floor.

She stopped what she was doing and mimicked his stance and nudged his shoulder with hers. “Why ever not? He’s obviously good for you and I’m guessing you’re the same for him. Why hide it? I’m sure everyone would be happy for you. You know, Tony’s actually mentioned you’re less tetchy around the office. See, even he’s noticed and you know how self-absorbed he can be.”

Phil huffed out a small laugh and nodded. “He said that?”

“Actually he said something about you finally getting that stick out of your ass.”

They looked at each other and giggled until Pepper let out a very unladylike snort which made Phil laugh harder. He dropped his hand down to hers and gave it a gentle squeeze keeping hold of it. When the laughter finally subsided he let go of a long, drawn out sigh before dropping the bombshell.

“He’s Fury’s son.”

He gave Pepper a sideways glance and wasn’t surprised to see her mouth creating a little ‘o’ at the revelation. 

“Oh my! Does he…?”

“Nope. Neither of us has said anything.”

Pepper mulled things over for a moment. “How do you think he’ll take it?”

Phil shrugged and stared at the floor before he answered her. “Honestly? I have no idea. How would you react to your best friend fucking your kid? Look, I don’t really want to talk about it here. We need to get together to discuss the gala coming up. How about I tell you everything then and you can tell me what a sad, pathetic old man I am?”

“You do still owe me the gossip you promised and we really do need to finalise things,” she agreed. She leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek then rubbed off her lipstick with her thumb. “And for the record, you are not a sad, pathetic old man, Phillip Coulson. He’s very lucky to have you. Anyone would be.”

Phil ducked his head and gave her a small smile. Changing the subject he asked, “Speaking of Mr Stark, how are things with you two?”

She blushed and couldn't stop a grin from appearing. “Tony is an ass...but right now, things are great. More than great.”

Phil smiled gently at her and kissed her forehead before pushing off the counter. “Good. Tell me when he's an ass and we’ll have another quiet chat.” 

“I don't think so,” she scolded him going back to making the sweet tea. “The last time I did that you threatened to taze him and watch Supernanny while he drooled on the carpet.”

Phil was unrepentant. “It worked didn't it?”

“I’d rather have him with me voluntarily than because he thinks you're going to swoop in like an avenging angel.”

He pushed his hands into the front pockets of his jeans as he walked away. “Okay...but don't forget it as an option.” 

Pepper smiled as she added the finishing touches to the latest batch of tea knowing he didn’t really mean it. Slowly the smile disappeared from her face and her expression became more thoughtful. It was Phil. Of course he meant it.

When Clint finally arrived - with someone whom Phil presumed to be his partner, Sam Wilson, in tow - he made a bee-line to where Phil stood by the crawfish pot while Sam headed straight for the tables of snacks. 

“Hey sorry we're late, too much damn paper work. So… what’s all this?”

For a moment Phil didn’t speak; couldn’t speak. He couldn't get over how good Clint looked in his Under Armor shirt, tight and so fucking sexy across the chest, his khaki cargo shorts and his Ray-Bans. If they weren't the host and guest of honor he would throw him down on the nearest flat surface and not stop till Clint was a beautiful quivering mess. However, duty called and Phil pulled himself together enough to answer in a controlled voice.

“It's the housewarming party I told you about, and these…” he said sweeping his arm over the pots “...are crawfish.”

“Jesus! Ugly little fuckers, aren’t they? But they smell really great.” Clint looked at the tables heaving with platters of delicious looking food, spicey and sweet, and took in all the people that were milling around his yard and ducked his head. He looked up at Phil through his eyelashes, “So you did all this...for me?”

Clint looked so innocent and beautiful as he spoke. Phil wanted to touch his hand to Clint’s face and tell him how he would do anything for his sweet boy. Instead he nodded and gave him a soft smile. In a moment of insanity, not caring who was watching and what they might think, he leaned in and whispered against his ear, “Just for you, sweetheart.”

The younger man closed his eyes for a second barely holding back a shiver. He was so close to throwing his arms around Phil and pressing his face against the crook of his neck but like Phil, he managed to hold it together, giving him a smile and a nod of thanks instead. He trusted Phil would understand the gestures for what they were.

“So do these little guys scream like lobsters?” Clint asked with an impish grin plastered across his face. 

Phil snorted and huffed out a quiet laugh. Trust Clint to come out with something nasty like that. Little shit!

The new guy, Steve was standing next to his best friend at the water’s edge listening to him drone on about a girl he had met the previous weekend when over Bucky’s shoulder he saw an unmistakable mess of blonde hair go bounding towards a neatly dressed man. He knew the older man only by sight as the Director of the security agency he’d been employed by for a few weeks now. Although the younger man’s back was to him, he watched the two men carefully, picking up on the way they were standing in each other’s space, not confrontational but comfortable with each other...very comfortable...and he had a gut feeling things were about to get very interesting. If he was right, if that blonde was who he thought he was, he had just stepped right back into a complicated mess he thought he'd gotten out of years ago. 

“Hey, Buck? Who did you say this party was for?”

“Oh uh, someone's kid. The former Director’s kid, I think.”

“So what's with that?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well does he work for S.H.I.E.L.D.? Why are we at a party for someone we haven't met?” Steve mentally crossed his fingers, last he heard his ex was a… 

“No he's a cop, I think.” Bucky responded before taking a big gulp of spiked tea. 

Well damn! It seemed Steve was just out of luck today. 

Bucky continued, “As for why, well it was an invite, not mandatory. I don’t know about you but I'm here for the food. Director Coulson throws the best parties and the food is always awesome. Too bad you came after the Super Bowl. He does a big thing for anyone stuck in the building that day. Lots of food and big screen TVs. Well that's how it started anyway. Every year a lot more people get “stuck” though.”

“Have you met him? The old Director I mean?”

“Oh yeah. He’s really…” Bucky paused trying to think of the right words to use to describe Fury - there were so many!

“Scary? What a grown man's nightmares are made of? And by any chance does he have one eye?” Steve supplied, deciding to go out on a limb. He had, unfortunately, met his ex’s father on a couple of occasions. Still, all he really knew of the man was his penchant for scaring small children, love of firearms, and that he used to work in private security. At the moment that seemed to be enough though. 

Bucky responded cautiously with a questioning glance. “Yeah… how did you know?”

His friend’s query went completely unnoticed by Steve as he caught sight of Director Coulson and what was most definitely his ex. “Sorry Buck, but I think things are about to get real interesting.”

Just as the words left Steve's mouth, the pair reached them and Coulson had his friend’s hand grasped in greeting. Steve never heard what was said because his eyes were focused on none other than Clint fucking Barton. 

It wasn’t that he wasn't happy to see the man, he was. He just wasn't prepared to see those eyes again. 

Steve came to work for the Montana State Parks department shortly after Clint, the two men becoming fast friends almost upon meeting. It didn't take long before they became more. Their relationship lasted just over a year. For months they were like any other happy couple: they went on dates; joked and laughed about stupid things; argued over chores and dirty laundry on the floor (it was all Clint's) and when the power went out in mid January, they fucked liked rabbits till neither could walk. He could still see those multi-colored eyes staring up at him while he was balls deep in their owner. He could clearly remember how they turned almost gold (as opposed to the usual kaleidoscope of blue, green and gold) when Clint was close coming all over himself as he begged daddy to fuck him harder. Steve would admit, at least to himself that he missed that. 

What he didn't miss however were the almost constant accusations that he was cheating. He and Bucky had been friends since puberty and as close as brothers ever since. Brothers, nothing more, ever. So Clint's accusations that when he took time off to see his best friend visiting from Texas had quickly evolved from cute to annoying to downright hurtful. So much so, Steve’d had to end things.

That was one memory of those eyes Steve wished he could forget. The way they turned a vibrant blue and glistened with tears when he told his lover they weren't working anymore. That he thought they would both be happier apart. It was clear he broke his baby boy’s heart with those words, but he remained firm with himself and Clint. It would have been so easy to give in and take him back after looking into those eyes. 

Deep down, Clint must have realised there was something wrong himself, for as far as break ups went, theirs went relatively well. No screaming or arguing over belongings. They even managed to stay friends for the most part. Though they had lost touch these last few months which explained why he unknowingly ended up at a party for his ex. As well as working for his father's company. 

It was Coulson who interrupted their awkward staring contest by grasping his hand after sending Bucky to take out the Crawfish. “Steve Rogers right? I'm sorry it’s taken so long for a proper introduction. It's a pleasure to have you on our team.”

“You’re a busy man, sir. Pleasure is all mine.”

Their pleasantries were cut short by Clint’s surprised squawk. “He works for you?! Steve, you work at S.H.I.E.L.D?”

Clint's mostly green eyes looked about ready to pop out of his pretty little head. Not that Steve could really blame him, he was still pretty shocked himself.

Phil's blood ran cold. As much as he didn't want to believe it there was no doubt in his mind that this was Clint's 2am guy, his lover he had mentioned. He knew it was a bit of a jump, but his instincts never steered him wrong before. While the man was young (compared to Phil at least) he certainly looked like someone one would call daddy. At this point in their lives everyone had exes. So to hear of one in passing was common place. To meet one, while possibly uncomfortable was not unusual but to have your lover’s ex (quite possibly ex-daddy) working for you was another thing entirely. 

Not to mention the fact this man was beautiful. Tall, muscular, blonde hair, and blue eyes that could make the sky jealous, Clint clearly didn't leave this man willingly. Though to be fair he couldn't see why anyone would leave his beautiful boy either. He on the other hand was older, with a receding hairline and the slight start of a belly thanks to too much time behind a desk and not enough time in the gym. And here Steve was, a classic Adonis, right back under Clint's nose. It took all Phil’s skill as a former soldier to keep himself calm and under control. He couldn’t even touch Clint to mark his claim because no-knew. Well fuck!

What followed was that awkward moment when two exes unexpectedly meet and don't quite know how to greet each other. Do you hug, shake hands, or just bro-fist and call it a day? After an uneasy shuffle of arms and bumping of elbows it all ended in a hug that was far more warm and genuine than either expected. 

“So, uh you look well.” Steve stammered. Obviously all the awkwardness had not dissolved with the hug. 

“Oh...yeah. Gotta stay in shape for the job ya know. Oh you…you look well too. Almost didn't recognize you without your beard though.” Clint watched the toe of his boot kick the dirt as he spoke. 

“Oh. Yeah.” Self-consciously, Steve touched his fingertips to his face. “I...shaved it off when I got here. Not exactly the climate for the mountain-man look. Got rid of the plaid shirts too.” 

Steve was trying to lighten things up by when the joke fell flat he paused for a moment before speaking again. “So, uh, nice place. You wanna show me around?”

“Oh. Yeah. Sure.”

Steve turned back to Phil and gave him a disarming smile. “Good to meet you, sir. And thank you for the invite.”

Phil nodded giving him a smile of his own that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You too, Steve. Clint, I’ll see you later.”

With that they left Phil standing alone with his thoughts. Steve couldn’t figure out just why he was unsettled by the man. He just knew he felt better taking Clint away from him. Besides it would be kinda nice to catch up with Clint on his own. The trouble was Steve had no idea what to say. 

“So, how’s Lucky?” Steve asked eventually as the reached the snack table after they finished meandering through the house. Nice one Roger’s Steve berated himself. 

“Oh fine, he's… he's fine. Does… dog… things. Does them well.”

“Still your ‘service’ dog?”

“Oh yeah! He loves it! I think it's his true calling. He's around here somewhere you should say hi, I bet he remembers you. I… I don't think I ever thanked you for that, couldn't have done it without you, so… thanks. 

“Nah don't thank me, the little guy deserved it. I was just an extra set of hands.” 

Clint nodded dumbly as he scooped a glob of pale green dip onto a tortilla chip as he fished for something to say “So… you seeing anyone?”

“Not me,” came from over Steve's shoulder as Bucky appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. 

All Clint could do was nod. “Yeah ok I deserved that, walked right into it actually. But it's ok I got you guys figured out now.”

“You do?” Steve asked skeptically. 

“Yeah I saw Scrubs. Better late than never, right?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Bucky asked with his critical glare focused on Clint. 

“Come on, you've seen it, yeah? You have a bromance like Turk and J.D. So… sorryforgivingyouahardtime.” Clint said, rushing through his long overdue apology. 

Clint's logic caught them off guard, though it was just like him to make that kind of connection. 

“Well… ok at least we’re in the same book now. And you’re right, better late than never.” While it was clear Steve had accepted his pathetic apology it seemed Bucky would not be so easily pleased. 

“Are you sure you didn't just realize you were weren’t good …”

“Hey Buck, look! Dirty Arnold Tea. Sounds boozy enough for you? Here have a glass and let me know. Meanwhile go find me Lucky, would you?” Steve suggested while shoving a cup into his friend’s hand, successfully cutting him off and sending him on his way. 

With Bucky, and the tension he brought with him gone, Steve and Clint are left in another awkward silence hanging between them. Neither of them mentioned what Bucky was clearly about to say.

“How about you, seeing anyone?” Steve inquired in attempt to fill the silence. 

Clint busied himself filling a small plates with more chips and dip while he spoke “No, I mean yes, there’s been, people. There is a guy actually… only were not… Ya know, serious. It's like… well, Ya know.”

“Would this happen to be the same guy who left this giant purple monster of a hickey. Looks pretty serious to me, because that definitely says ‘mine’.” Steve told him as he pulled aside the collar of Clint's Under Armor shirt to better reveal the bruise. 

Clint blushed bright red as he ducked out of Steve's grasp. 

Steve couldn't help but be both amused and curious. It wasn't like Clint to skirt around a question like that. He was usually the type to loudly and proudly proclaim when he was getting laid. 

“So I take it your dad doesn’t approve then?”

“No, I mean… he wouldn't if he knew. In fact I think he'd kill us both. Or castrate us slowly… yeah, probably the latter.”

“Clint…” Steve sighed in admonishment. “You know that's probably not a good sign. Maybe you should just get out now even if it is just casual.”

“Look I'm a grown ass man, I can make my own decisions, I don't need anyone else making them for me.”

“Fine, I get it. It’s not like you ever listened to your daddy before.” Steve knew it was a bit of a low blow. But he was only trying to keep Clint from getting hurt and the to be honest other man was being a brat. 

Clint sighed in defeat. “Look it isn't like that. He's a really great guy, honestly. The kind that helps old ladies and kittens cross the street. Like… as nice as you. But pop he…. I don't think would give it chance. Not that I could really blame him. Besides it's just fucking. No reason to tell him who it is if it's not going anywhere right?”

“If you say so. But…”

“But what?”

“Well if he really is as great a guy as you claim, why not date him?”

Clint turned his head towards the sky just in time to see a flock of birds pass overhead, it was a peaceful moment though it did nothing to ease the twisting in his gut. “Because I learned my lesson with you. I can't communicate. I don't do feelings. I'm not the guy you date. I'm the guy you fuck. When I try for more, people get hurt. Good people get hurt. People I don't deserve.” Clint voice was soft but firm with resignation. Steve never got the chance to console, reassure or even respond. 

Clint was relieved when his unsettling conversation with Steve was interrupted by Phil's shouts. “Darcy! What are you doing? For God’s sake woman, put that down”

Darcy paused where she stood over the large pitcher of Sweet Tea, with an almost empty bag of sugar dangling from her fingertips. 

“What!? You call this sweet tea? I can barely taste the sugar.”

In his time in the south Clint had come to realize - like everywhere else in the world - you could not lump all its inhabitants together in their beliefs and views. There were even some on-going debates it seemed, like just how sweet, sweet Tea should be. Apparently Darcy was of the old school belief that the first glass should give you diabetes. 

Bucky walked over and poured himself a glass to try. 

“No, this is fine, great job doll.” he proclaimed before polishing off his cup and pouring another. 

“See, sexy hobo guy here likes it. Case closed, boss,” Darcy announced as she set the lid back on the pitcher. Phil’s eyes twinkled as he shook his head and held his hands up in defeat. 

“She’s kind of a firecracker,” said a voice in his ear. He turned to Sam who was gazing at Darcy with a wide grin on his face. Steve apparently had had enough of the awkward conversation that was developing between them and had walked away while Clint's attention was focussed elsewhere. Probably for the best. Clint could feel himself slipping into a belligerent mood. 

“You try the crawfish yet? Aw man, you gotta! They're fine! C’mon!” Sam told him when his partner shook his head and dragged him over to the table.

Clint had apparently missed the first round of Crawfish but made it in time for the second. Unfortunately the only seat available put him between Phil and Steve, with his Pop at the head of the table a few seats away … well this looked bad. If he talked to Steve again things had the potential to get more awkward than they already were. However, if he focused too much on Phil, not only would he have to fight the urge to crawl into the man's lap, but he could risk giving himself away. The last thing he needed was pop and Steve teaming up against him and Phil. Which no doubt would be what happened. Then his party would go the way of the O.K Corral. That would just be no fun for anyone. 

As he took his seat he decided if he just kept eating he couldn't talk. Therefore he couldn't get into trouble. At least, that was the plan. Now, if only he could figure out how to eat these things. 

Atop of the brown paper covered table before him were no serving platters, plates or utensils, only mountains of bright red crawfish, red potatoes, and corn on the cobb adorned the table top. Luckily Phil gave him and Steve a personal lesson on just how to eat them. He demonstrated just how to pinch and break them in half and get the tail meat out. He explained that was where all the edible meat was (unlike lobster, crawfish claws were a waste of time.) 

Now things looked really bad. Clint quickly realised it took longer to shell the critters than to eat the grape sized piece of meat. He also realised that meant he would be there a while before he got full enough to hit his newly fixed Hot tub as planned. So he devised a new plan. Take a bite of potato, shell while chewing, eat the shelled tail, and repeat. But even the best laid plans hit pot holes, as he soon found out. 

Natasha Romanov, his Supervising Officer, sitting diagonally from him tapped his arm. “Hey, you’re doing it wrong.”

“Hm?” was the most intelligent response he could muster with his mouth full of potato. 

“Yeah. You need to suck the head, to get all the juices out.”

That wasn't what ruined his well laid plan. No, what ruined it was that he took the bait and opened his mouth. 

“Why didn’t anyone say so? I'm great at that.”

The only response he got from Natasha was an exaggerated eye roll. Bucky however (who sat across from him) was another story entirely. 

“Suck the head. You're just sucking the spiced boiling liquid out of the thorax. Like this.” Bucky pinched a body between his fingers, put it to his lips, tipped his head back and slurped. 

Gross! It was the most disgusting thing Clint had ever seen or heard in his life. Aside from the time he caught his pop with a lady friend when he was 14. Nothing was more gross than that. But Natasha seemed to approve of his technique. 

Instead of vomiting, Clint decided to have a little fun with Bucky. Just as a little payback for being a sour puss earler at his house warming party. 

“Wow, Bucky! Looks like you did a great job of giving head. I mean for a guy who claims to be straight and all.” Clint knew it was the wrong thing to say before the words even left his mouth. 

It was like the climax scene of an action movie from the ‘80s. Everything slowed down till he could see every muscle clench and eye blink. First Bucky’s fist tightened then the muscles in his arm then neck. Finally his jaw clenched. He could see the look of shock on Steve's face morph into anger. And Phil's eyes grow cold and stony as he observed the proceedings almost as if preparing for a fight, as if to defend Clint (he didn't want think about why that gave him a warm fuzzy feeling.) 

But the knock out he was anticipating never came. Fury thought it was the perfect moment to break in and while his pop made a point to never fight Clint's battles for him (he said it built character) he had saved his ass on numerous occasions. This time was no exception. 

“Listen to yourself, you little shit. Always bragging and running your mouth. Which reminds me, the other day the Dean of U.T called…” Fury said with a bark of laughter and proceeded to tell his tale. This launched the entire table, including Steve (who knew?), Bucky and Phil into a heated debate about the long standing rivalry between A&M University and The University of Texas. Thanks to his pop running interference, it saved him from burying bodies in his backyard and Steve's disappointed looks (those were the worst.) 

Once the debate had wound down, his confrontation had been forgotten - thanks in no small part to Pepper’s alcoholic peach tea punch - the rest of the evening was spent bouncing between a bonfire he and Steve built and the Hot tub as the temperature dropped. For Texas anyway, apparently sixty-five degrees required heat sources and light jackets. 

Eventually, once the guests had gone, Clint and Phil were left in front of the fading fire. Clint was stretched out alongside the flames with Phil sitting behind him on his other side running his fingers through the younger man's hair, with Lucky’s head testing on Clint's belly. 

“Hey Phil?” Clint asked quietly as he stared off into the dying embers.“I just wanted to say thanks. For today. It was awesome. So… yeah… thanks.”

Phil couldn’t agree more, if you didn't include the awkward “ex” tension that surrounded them for most of the early part of afternoon. While Steve and Clint seemed to get along well - possibly too well for Phil's comfort - Bucky and Clint on the other hand were more like oil and water. And he just couldn't figure out why. Aside from that, the afternoon had been lovely. Pepper’s snacks had been a hit. The dip she made with That Green Sauce had been devoured immediately. Jemma and Leo were to say the least, rather entertaining regaling everyone with tales of their Nick Fury Shopping ExperienceTM. And Natasha and May made for some solid conversations. Also it should be noted that Clint now had more towels, chip and dip bowls, and William Sonoma gift cards than he could ever dream to need. 

But Phil's only response was to haul Clint into his lap and hold him close before continuing his ministrations in his boy’s hair. “I'm just glad you had fun.”

“I really did...”

The sentence seemed to hang in the air like a bad smell. Phil had noticed it before, it was times like these that there were obviously words left unsaid. Words one of them wanted to say, that should be said but were left to die in the mouth of their owner. Phil had a hunch he knew what those words were and decided that this - in the grass, by the water, with the fire light licking at his lover’s face in a gentle caress - was the perfect time to let Clint know he understood.

“Clint, there's a purple box on top of the fridge, would you get that and bring it here please?”

“Why, what is it?”

“You'll see, just go get it.”

Clint scurried of to the kitchen after sparing only a moment to give Phil a suspicious glance. 

“So what is this?” Clint asked as he settled himself back into Phil's lap. 

“Your housewarming gift,” Phil told him. 

“You didn't have to, you did all this for me” Clint said waving his arms, motioning to the backyard where no evidence of that afternoon remained. 

“I wanted to.” Phil said simply as he motioned for Clint to get on with it. 

With no further prompting Clint tore into the metallic purple paper as though it hid the secrets to the universe. The gift was not much bigger than a large shoe box, if not a bit taller. Each one of its contents were wrapped in white tissue paper printed with silver stars. Clint pulled out the top package, which happened to be a small rectangular box, and tore off the tissue paper with the same enthusiasm as he did the outer wrapping. 

Phil watched as Clint realised what he held in his hand, and the reaction was just adorable. Clint's eyes grew wide as he bit his lip, and a slight flush of excitement dusted his cheeks. 

“You found purple grape condoms! Aw, somebody knows how much I love to suck their dick.” Clint said with a lecherous leer. 

“Well I admit, last Sunday when you asked me to come over to watch the game as long as I let you suck my cock, might have been a tiny hint, but really it was just a lucky guess.”

With a snort of amusement Clint tore through the rest of the box revealing a bag of suckers - also purple grape, and Oreos breakfast cereal. Phil bit his lip as he watched the play of emotions drift across his boy's face. It started with confusion and moved swiftly to delight. 

“I never thought you'd actually support my junk food habit.” Clint said with a smirk before pulling out the final gift. 

For what seemed like eternity but was probably only moments Clint sat there staring at the small stuffed armadillo in his hand. His look was almost…hopeful. 

“Hey Phil, this is… Uh this… it's… it's really cute, but…”

Phil knew one of two things was going to happen. Either Clint didn't want to get his hopes up, or he really did just like to call Phil daddy during sex and that was it. Phil took a deep breath. He could laugh it off as a joke, tell him it's because he was such a brat all the time (he was pretty sure though that was a very bad idea) or he could just… 

“Daddy wanted to get some treats for his good sweet boy. Do you like it?”

Clint's eyes grew wide and his brows shot into his hairline. A bright smile bloomed across his face lighting it up like no flame or lamp ever could. He wrapped the stuff toy tightly in one arm and wrapped the other around Phil pulling them tightly together. 

“Yes, daddy I love it.”


	2. Story photo set

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pictures that go along with our helped inspire the story just to tie ya'll over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok guys I know it been a while but we're still working in it. We wrote Ch 3&4 before 2 which is slowing the whole thing down. But it shouldn't be long now. Till then, enjoy...

Phil at work 

[](http://s1043.photobucket.com/user/ThePurpleTie979/media/Mobile%20Uploads/images-2_zpsnmidflp1.jpg.html)

 

Clint at work 

[](http://s1043.photobucket.com/user/ThePurpleTie979/media/Mobile%20Uploads/IMG_0917_zpsfkngqo0e.jpg.html)

Phil talking to Clint in his office 

[](http://s1043.photobucket.com/user/ThePurpleTie979/media/Mobile%20Uploads/d0f2a0ce-c838-44e2-be28-4b8b864bb85e_zpszyz5mzfp.png.html)

Phil visiting Fury 

[](http://s1043.photobucket.com/user/ThePurpleTie979/media/Mobile%20Uploads/5790c86a-9f81-46df-81c3-14d4802eb045_zpsagjq0nmc.jpg.html)

Clint at his Pop’s

[](http://s1043.photobucket.com/user/ThePurpleTie979/media/Mobile%20Uploads/IMG_0797-1_zpsy1yest2g.jpg.html)

 

Phil at the rodeo…. Your welcome 

[](http://s1043.photobucket.com/user/ThePurpleTie979/media/Mobile%20Uploads/591aff93-8820-4a0b-af46-1997f81fed22_zpsc26elst8.jpg.html)

 

Clint at the rodeo

[](http://s1043.photobucket.com/user/ThePurpleTie979/media/Mobile%20Uploads/IMG_0796_zpsqb1it81z.png.html)


	3. The morning after

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Well then,” Pepper said brightly. “That’s two conversations you better have pretty soon. One with your boy and another with his father. I do love our get togethers, Phil. They’re always so entert

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go guys, the long awaited second chapter! Enjoy!
> 
> Remember there is a definite correlation between reviews and updates. ;)

Daddy 3.2

 

The morning after

 

Clint woke up first. Arnold, his housewarming gift from Phil, was firmly tucked under his arm and it was the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes. He rubbed his nose against the armadillo’s soft fur and smiled. He loved it and he loved that Phil had given it to him - his first real present from his daddy. He sighed gently, happily. He wanted to show Phil how pleased he was with his new plushy but he was still asleep and Clint wasn't sure he wanted to wake him; not just yet. Instead, he snuggled in close delighting in the warmth of the older man and draped his free arm across Phil’s chest, breathing him in. Maybe not the best idea. His cock, half-hard before, thickened and filled out even more. God he wanted his daddy to fuck him! Still he tried to be a good boy and pulled Arnold's tail into his mouth to keep it occupied until Phil woke up and he could suck his dick instead.

 

Phil was was lying on his back still asleep although he stirred slightly when he felt the movement beside him followed by the weight of Clint’s arm across his chest. He the corner of his mouth turned up in a slight smile and he rolled onto his side to face the younger man, gently pulling him into a loose embrace, wrapping his leg around Clint’s. Clint allowed himself to be repositioned and tucked his face into the crook of Phil’s neck sliding his arm around to Phil’s back. He smelled so good, a trace of cologne and his own unique scent, masculine and comforting to Clint, and his breathing was so steady that Clint relaxed in his arms, lulled back to sleep.

 

The second time Clint woke, he found he’d changed position again; he was being was spooned by Phil and  fuck did he have morning wood! His cock was pressed against Clint’s ass hard enough to almost prise his cheeks apart. Clint’s own dick nodded, happy that they were on the same page. The younger man slowly rocked his hips to rub his ass against Phil’s shaft. Still mostly asleep, the other man hummed with pleasure and gently began to thrust forward.

 

“Fuck me, daddy,” Clint whispered. He lifted Phil’s hand that rested against his stomach and drew it down to his cock. He tried to wrap Phil’s fingers round his length but the other man was strangely resistant. 

 

“No, sweetheart,” Phil murmured, his voice rough with sleep. He took his hand back and rested it on Clint’s hip stroking it gently with his thumb. His warm breath ghosted across Clint’s neck as he spoke which made him shiver.

 

“Please,” the younger man begged and pushed back into Phil’s cock, squirming in his lap. 

 

Phil smiled and kissed the smooth skin of his boy’s shoulder but once again said no. “Not until we talk first,” he added.

 

Clint went very still. He didn’t want to talk and he certainly didn’t want to have  that talk. He was warm and comfortable and horny as hell. No. He didn’t want to talk, he wanted to fuck. He just had to convince Phil. He rocked his hips pressing backwards again as his cheeks tried to envelope Phil’s cock.

 

Phil tightened his grip on Clint’s hipbone.

 

“Clint,” he warned.

 

“But we didn’t do it last night and I really,  really want to do it now.” It wasn’t a whine nor was it child-like; it was Clint being honest. Phil was just about to tell him no again when Clint said quietly, “Please. I’ll be so good for you.”

 

Phil closed his eyes and shuddered. As he realised he might have gained get the upper hand, Clint turned to face the older man who opened his eyes at the movement. Clint looked into them and noted the pupils had dilated leaving just a thin circle of blue around the outer edge.  Just what he wanted to see but even so, it surprised him how much he wanted,  needed to see that desire in the other man’s eyes. 

 

He kissed Phil softly on his lips and slowly trailed kisses along his jaw, prickly with morning stubble, to the soft, velvety skin right below his ear. Once there he craned his neck slightly to whisper in the shell, “I’ll be such a good boy for you.”

 

Phil’s jaw clenched. The muscles jumped and tightened as he fought for control. His cock throbbed, pulsing with its own need and want. He tried again, “I know you will, sweetheart, but we need to talk about…”

 

Clint interrupted him. “And we will. But not right now, yeah. Not when we both want this. We both want this, don't we?  You want this.”

 

He punctuated each sentence with a kiss to Phil’s neck or throat and while he did so, he touched his hand to Phil’s shoulder to gently push against it easing him onto his back. When he reached the hollow, he flicked his tongue into the dip before he sucked and grazed his teeth against the skin. Phil moaned. 

 

Clint knew he had him now. He sat up and threw his leg over Phil’s thigh to straddle him, rubbing his balls over Phil’s before he bent forward to lean with his hands on either side of the other man’s head. He looked down at his lover and tilted his head to the side before dropping closer to run his tongue down Phil’s neck. When he reached the join at the shoulder he sucked and grazed a mark into the skin pulling another moan from the older man. When he was happy he’d marked him sufficiently he whispered into Phil’s ear again, “Fuck me, daddy.”

 

He might call Phil daddy when they fucked, but there was nothing childish about it. His voice was deep and raspy and his body, his beautiful, hard-muscled body, was all man. The hell with it, Phil thought. They could talk afterwards during breakfast. They had the whole day together.

 

“Okay, sweetheart. Get the lube and let me prep you. Or do you want to do it yourself?”

 

Yes ! Let the fucking commence! However, Clint was in two minds about his answer to the question. He loved having Phil’s fingers inside him, stretching him open but if he prepped himself, Phil could watch and Clint liked that too especially if the other man stroked his own cock while he looked at him.

 

“If  I do it, will you touch yourself for me?”

 

“Would you like that, sweetheart?”

 

Clint ducked his head shyly and nodded.

 

“Okay then, baby. Get the lube.”

 

Clint reached over to the nightstand and lifted the bottle snapping open the lid. The movement dragged his balls over Phil’s dick and stomach which made both his cock and his muscles jump. Clint grinned and did it again with a slow roll of his hips.

 

“You like that, daddy?”

 

Phil’s eyes became hooded and his breathing deepened. Oh yeah, he liked it. He liked it very much. He slid his palms up Clint’s thighs to his beautiful tight ass and took his buttocks in his hands to give them a firm squeeze. He’d love to give them a hard slap but he restrained himself - they needed to talk about that kind of thing first. He had to make sure it was something his boy would like and wouldn’t be afraid of.

 

Instead he growled, “Yeah, I like it. Now stop teasing and prep your hole for me, beautiful boy. Get it slick and wide for me.”

 

Clint shuddered. Phil’s voice had gone from a sleepy huskiness to a different kind of gravelly; one that was filled with lust. He sat back on the older man’s thighs and looked at him. He shuddered again when he saw that dark expression that came over Phil’s face sometimes and usually ended in amazing and intense sex that left them both exhausted. It made him think back to the night in his pop’s kitchen when they made out and hand fucked against the kitchen surface. A spurt of pre-come leaked from Clint’s slit as he remembered it; Phil’s hand gripping his hair, his other hand on his throat, tongue fucking his mouth. Then his hand dropping to Clint’s dick milking the come from his cock in sure confident strokes. Clint closed his eyes and moaned.

 

“What’re you thinking, sweetheart? What’s making your cock leak like that, huh?”

 

Clint snapped his eyes open again and he tried to cover his self-consciousness by being bratty. He gave Phil a giant shit-eating grin and said, “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

 

Phil brought his hand round to the younger man’s dick and gave it a rough tug pressing his thumb against the slit. Clint jerked and cried out not from pain but from complete and utter pleasure at his touch.

 

“What are you waiting on, beautiful?” Phil teased and gave him another couple of strokes before he released him. “Get comfortable and get prepped.”

 

With several short breaths, Clint poured a generous amount of lube over his fingers and reached round to circle his tight pucker with the tip of a finger. He breached his hole and slowly pushed his finger in to just past the second knuckle then pulled it back out to the first, twisting it to stretch and loosen himself. 

 

Phil smiled at him and pulled another couple of pillows behind his head and shoulders to watch. He loved to see Clint get himself ready for his cock; loved the breathy little sighs, the little grunts and moans he made when his fingers opened his hole, as they occasionally brushed against his prostate. He picked up the lube and poured a liberal amount into his palm before he wrapped his fist around his cock to keep his promise to Clint. To his boy.

 

“That's my good boy,” he told him as he languidly slid up and down his length. “Open yourself up nice and wide for me, let me slide right in.”

 

Clint whimpered at Phil's words and his voice and thrust another finger in with the first. His breath hitched both from his own actions and at the sight of Phil with his hand on his cock. He adored to watch him wank; with long, lazy strokes almost casual about it, comfortable - it's such a fucking turn on. 

 

He scissored his fingers, stretching himself wider before he added a third finger and gasped slightly at the intrusion. His hole greedily sucked at his fingers and pull them inside nudging them against his prostate. As they slid along the gland it sent sparks of pleasure up his spine and causing him to moan from deep inside his chest. More pre-come spiled from the head of his cock and left a glistening, sticky trail down his shaft. 

 

Phil licked his lips at the glorious sight before him; his boy sitting astride his thighs, body shaking with pleasure with his fingers buried deep in his ass as he thrust them in and out and made himself ready for Phil's cock. The fingers of Clint's other hand sought out his nipple and pinched and squeezed the tight little nub which forced short gasps and whines from him. Fuck he was beautiful.

 

Clint's face was flushed, his jaw slack but his eyes, half-closed and dark with arousal, remained on the older man’s to hold his unblinking gaze. The pair stayed locked like that for an eternity as they fucked themselves with their hands each turning the other on to the point of perfect desperation.

 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Phil finally growled, “you're so gorgeous like this. You're pleasing daddy so much. Are you ready for me, sweetheart? Can you take me yet?” 

 

He was, but the look on Phil's face, the intensity of his gaze would have Clint saying yes even if he wasn't. It was as terrifying as it was exciting and...dangerous...as though he was holding something back. Oh fuck he wanted Phil inside him so badly he couldn’t speak, only nod.

 

“Such a good boy for me,” Phil told him.

 

Clint shuddered at the praise and a shiver raced down his spine. 

 

Reluctant to break the spell but knowing he had to, Phil reached across to the night stand to collect a hand towel and a condom. He wiped the lube from his hand and dick then gave the towel to Clint to do the same with his fingers. While Clint was occupied, Phil tore open the foil off the condom and rolled it over his cock. He picked up the lube again and coated himself in a generous amount before flicking his eyes to Clint. 

 

“How would you like me to fuck you, Clint?” Phil’s voice was like warm honey and it sent another series of shivers cascading down the younger man’s spine. He could come from that alone.

 

“Let me ride you?” he asked hopefully as Phil stroked his thighs to calm him until the shuddering finally stopped.

 

“Ohhh! So  you really want to fuck  me , huh? Of course, sweetheart,” he teased him gently. Phil manoeuvred himself into a more comfortable position and waited until Clint was ready.

 

He wanted to watch Phil as he fucked him, as they fuck each other, so Clint remained facing the other man. He dropped the towel to the side and shimmied forward, then tucked his feet under Phil’s thighs before raising himself over Phil’s cock and lowering slowly down. Even with the prep beforehand he had to take his time - Phil was a pretty big guy and the burn could be too much if he hurried. But eventually he bottomed out and once he became used to the stretch he started to move, sliding along the other man’s cock. Fuck it felt good, so mind-numbingly good and he lost himself in the rhythm.

 

Phil let Clint dictate the pace - slow and steady at first, gradually picking up speed and urgency as he rode him. His hands were still on the younger man’s thighs, fingertips pressed into the hard muscle. Clint leaned forward to brace himself on the headboard and change the angle. Phil grunted and slid his hands round to Clint’s ass to squeeze and knead the flesh. He grunted again as Clint picked up the pace taking Phil in as deep as he could go. The sniper gave breathy moans with every slam against the other man. Phil’s heels dug into the mattress to steady himself against Clint’s assault on his cock. 

 

Phil wrapped his fist around Clint’s shaft and started to rub up and down his length in long, slow strokes twisting his wrist as his palm slid over the head. Clint gasped at his touch and the sparks it sent shooting through his body. As Clint speeded up so did Phil and their breathing came in short bursts in between sounds of fucking.

 

Phil let out a long groan and closed his eyes for a moment, his steady stroke of Clint’s dick faltering. He was getting close now. 

 

“Fuck, sweetheart. So close,” he murmured to Clint. After a moment he went back to slowly jerking him off. He raised his free hand to Clint’s face to tenderly caress his cheek with his fingertips and sweep his thumb across his bottom lip. Clint closed his eyes and parted his lips to pull Phil’s thumb into his mouth. He let go of the headboard with one hand to grip Phil’s wrist while he sucked on the older man’s thumb sliding in and out, rolling his tongue around it like it was Phil’s dick. It elicited a similar response; he grunted in a way that made Clint pretty sure it was the best sound he'd ever heard, and Phil bucked his hips which pushed his cock deeper into Clint’s ass. He released Phil’s thumb and cried out at the movement, grabbing tight to the headboard with both hands again. Jesus fucking Christ. He’d have to remember  that for future.

 

Under the influence of Clint’s favourite holy trinity: sucking on Phil’s thumb (or any part of his anatomy for that matter), the older man’s skilful touch and the feel of his dick in his ass as it nudged his prostate, Clint could feel his own balls tighten. 

 

Their moans and pants were getting louder as they neared orgasm and when they finally did let go, Clint first followed swiftly by Phil, it was to a crescendo of cries and groans and curses that signalled their sweaty, messy gratification. Clint’s come shot up to his stomach and spilled over Phil’s hand and seconds later Phil’s jerked beneath him as his cock pulsed into the condom in steady, powerful bursts.

 

Clint panted in short gasps, heaving air into his lungs as he trembled with aftershocks. His heart continued to race but Phil’s fingertips gently stroked his fevered skin and gradually helped him through the spasms. All the time Phil praised him as he tried to catch his own breath; telling him what a good boy he’d been coming for his daddy like that, how pleased he was with his boy. The younger man glowed with the praise.

 

Clint placed the palm of his hand flat against Phil’s chest, slick with sweat, and leaned in to kiss him gently on the lips. He placed his forehead against Phil’s for a few moments then dismounted, careful as he dislodged the other man’s cock from his hole, and rested his body against Phil’s side. His limbs were like jello. Once again he draped his arm across the older man’s chest as he tried to catch his breath.

 

“Fuck!” he breathed, the blood still pounding in his ears.

 

Phil huffed out a short laugh before he sat up briefly to remove the condom. After tying it off and dropping it in the bin by the bed he flopped back down again and pulled Clint’s arm back into position over his chest.

 

“Good?” he enquired with more than a hint of amusement in his tone.

 

Clint was too shattered to lift his head and give him the look of disbelief he wanted to because...fucking amazing thank you...so instead he rolled his eyes (which was kind of lost on Phil as he couldn’t see him do it) and waved his hand in the air with a grunt. Phil smiled softly.

 

“Sleep, sweetheart,” Phil told him as he kissed the top of his sweat-dampened head. “You’ve earned it.”

 

Clint hummed happily and closed his eyes...for all of about two minutes when Phil’s cell phone decided to burst into life, shattering the peace. Rude.

 

Phils cracked his eyes open and stared at the ceiling. “You’ve  got to be shitting me!” 

 

He reached over to the nightstand and picked it up.

 

“It better be good, Hill,” he growled at her. His deputy was well aware Coulson wasn’t working today. That and the fact he didn’t often take time off should have given him a free pass.

 

“It is, boss.” She at least had the decency to sound apologetic - then curious. “You still in bed?”

 

“I have a day off…” he reminded her and let the rest of the sentence hang.

 

“Yeah but it’s 08:15hrs. Even on a day off…” She too let the sentence hang but there was no mistaking the amusement in her tone. 

 

“Hill...” her boss warned. He was in no mood to be fucked with. He should be holding his boy basking in the afterglow of some pretty incredible sex but it now looked as though he was about to be called in. Fuck! So much for having the whole day together. He cursed himself for even allowing that thought enter his head. 

 

“Sir,” she replied, her voice instantly serious. She gave him a predetermined codeword which told him the emergency was a high priority that needed his attention; Coulson confirmed he’d be there immediately and hung up.

 

“Aw no!” came the whine from a pouting Clint. 

 

Phil kissed him gently on the forehead. “I know, sweetheart. I’m sorry.” He tumbled out of bed and headed for the bathroom. 

 

Fifteen minutes later, Clint was wakened from his doze by a fully clothed Phil, hair still damp from his shower, giving him a tender kiss on his lips. Closing his eyes again, Clint grabbed the end of Phil’s tie and held him there to kiss the older man more forcefully. Phil allowed him that small pleasure before carefully pulling away.

 

“Get some sleep. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

 

Clint hummed and snuggled back into the pillows, his arms wrapped around Arnold as he pulled one ear into his mouth sucking on it contentedly. It was almost enough to make Phil get back into bed with him and if it hadn’t been a codeword scenario, he would have. Instead he silently cursed his life and his job and the world in general and headed for his Jeep. The problem Houston’s Mayor had better be more substantial than a lost fucking kitten or shit would seriously be lost...

 

***

 

Unfortunately, the codeword scenario proved to be way beyond a lost fucking kitten and lasted for the next twenty-two hours before being successfully resolved. It was an exhausted Phil Coulson who finally returned to Clint’s place and fell into bed, just as the S.W.A.T. sniper was getting up to leave for his shift at the HPD. Clint was disappointed that Phil had been called away but not annoyed. He understood how their jobs worked and he was as likely to have an emergency and be yanked back to work as unexpectedly as Phil was.

 

However as much as Clint was disappointed not have spent some quality time with the older man, he was also slightly relieved. He knew Phil wanted to have “the talk” with him, and Clint was just as determined to avoid it. He seriously didn’t see the need to have kink negotiations. Things were fucking awesome in the sack and they got on pretty well out of it too. It’s not like they were in a relationship or anything. Been there, done that, wiped his ass with the fucking t-shirt. 

 

Clint looked down at his lover, his face relaxed in sleep, a slight smile playing on his lips and that amazing chest on full display. They might not be in one but if there was ever a person he’d like to try again with it was this man. Clint smiled fondly at him and gently stroked his fingers along the scruff of Phil’s jaw. Shit! If he stayed here much longer gazing at the sleeping man like a lovesick teenager, he’d be late for his shift and one person he certainly didn’t want to piss off was Natasha Romanoff. She’d chew his balls off and pickle them in vodka. 

 

*** 

 

Phil and Pepper had finally managed to get some time together at a restaurant near her office to go over all the salient points for the S.H.I.E.L.D. Charity Gala. Once again the venue would be  [ The Bell Tower on 34th ](http://thebelltoweron34th.com/gallery/) in Galveston. No contest really. The pair had been organising the charity event for almost a decade and six years ago they’d picked The Tower and absolutely loved it. Infact, everyone who’d attended had raved about the place. So much so S.H.I.E.L.D. now had a standing booking for the beautiful Contessa Ballroom and Three Oaks Courtyard which gave them plenty of room for around 200 guests with dinner, dancing and whatever else the pair came up with. 

 

Speaking of which, over dinner they’d managed to finalise the guest list for Fury’s perusal along with the menu and a couple of suggestions for the evening’s entertainment. He’d make a few changes just to fuck with them but generally he went with everything and everyone they suggested. As always it was a black tie event with tuxedos and gowns - all very Bond which tickled the ex-director no end. Once he gave the go ahead, they’d meet with the venue’s planner and get everything finalised. And, now it was time for the  really important stuff…

 

Pepper leaned towards Phil, her body language letting him know he had centre stage, she was his for the duration. “So you and Clint, huh?”

 

Phil sat exactly where he was; arms spread along the back of the seating in the booth, the corner of his mouth quirked up in a slight smirk showing her he was calm and relaxed and he’d get to it when he was good and ready.

 

Pepper rolled her eyes. She slapped his forearm playfully, bare skin as he’d long since shirked off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. 

 

“Damn it, Phil! You can be  such an ass. Tell me everything and don’t leave out any details.”

 

Phil flashed her a mischievous grin. “ Any details?”

 

In response, Pepper flushed a bright scarlet. Damn her fair skin. “You  know what I mean.”

 

“Because I can tell you how he makes these amazing little sounds when I kiss his…”

 

She slapped him again a little harder, her colour deepening if that was possible. “Really! You can be as exasperating as Tony.”

 

“That’s hurtful,” he told her with mock indignation.

 

“Ass!”

 

But he did tell her everything (minus the little sounds, and whimpers, and moans). 

 

With a shy smile her he told her about the day Clint arrived at S.H.I.E.L.D. asking for his help to get an interview with S.W.A.T. and how the mutual attraction became a one night stand - a glorious one night stand (no smutty details though) - something he hadn’t had in years. His face clouded over when he talked about finding out Clint was his best friend’s son and how he’d tried to pull away from that moment on, convinced Marcus would probably kill him, or worse separate him from his balls. His expression softened again as he described how, when they finally met up again, his feelings for the sniper hadn’t changed and distancing himself wasn’t really an option. He was hooked. 

 

“I  knew there was something between you two the day you brought him to me when he was looking for a house.” She tried to keep the gleeful tone from her voice but failed miserably.

 

Phil huffed out a small laugh. “That obvious, huh?”

 

“Not quite a neon sign flashing above your head but yes, Phil. It was pretty obvious. To me anyway. Is it... just sex?”

 

This time a slight blush appeared on Phil’s cheeks. Not because he was embarrassed about discussing sex with Pepper but more because his mind flashed back to the morning after the housewarming when he and Clint had fucked. They’d hardly seen each other since then. Between Clint’s shift patterns and Phil’s recent travelling because of his work, they weren’t getting much of a chance to catch up...or do much of anything else. Nor had they talked. 

 

“Not for me. Not any more. But I think perhaps it is for Clint. He’s told me he doesn’t do relationships. Something happened when he was in back in Montana and…” He shrugged. He didn’t know all the details and besides, it wasn’t his story to tell.

 

“But you want more?” she said gently.

 

“I’m good with how things are...but yeah, I’d like more. It’s not that simple though. Not with him being Nick’s kid.”

 

“Have the two of you discussed it?”

 

Every time he thought they were getting somewhere, getting close to each other and in a place they could talk about things, Clint would pull away - or fuck his brains out to distract him...yeah he knew it. Phil gave Pepper a sideways glance and another shrug.

 

“Phil, this is no good for either of you.” 

 

He looked up with a mischievous smile. “I beg to differ; the sex is actually pretty great.”

 

Pepper stared at him for a moment then gasped before dissolving into a fit of giggles. “Seriously, Phil Coulson! What are you? Twelve?”

 

Phil’s choked on his drink. 

 

“Oh god, Phil! Are you okay.”

 

He coughed and nodded. Logically he knew she had no idea Clint liked to call him daddy and that he sucked his plushy Armadillo’s ears and tail when they were in bed (his mind had apparently drifted back to that morning again) and that he preferred chocolate milk and ate chicken nuggets and pudding cups. Logically, he knew that but…

 

“Did I say something?” she teased, a huge grin now spreading across her face.

 

This time Phil’s cheeks turned a wonderful shade of scarlet. He took a small sip of his drink and swirled the ice around the glass. But Pepper recognised delay tactics when she saw them.

 

“Okay, stud...spill!”

 

He sighed while trying to hold back a smirk at her stud comment. Still staring at his drink he murmured,“He has...kind of a daddy kink.”

 

Pepper didn’t bat an eyelid but her grin widened. She nodded and asked him matter of factly, “I see. And how do you feel about it?”

 

Okay, right now, under her gaze which wasn’t so much stern as curious, he  did feel about twelve. He shrugged and cleared his throat, “I...eh...I like it.”   
  


“Hmmm. And is that what makes the sex so good?”

 

Shit! And he thought being interrogated by Marcus was ball shrinking. However, inadvertently or not, he opened the door to this topic of conversation so he couldn’t really complain... well, not yet anyway.

 

“It’s one of the things, yes.” 

 

Pepper rested her head on her hand and continued to gaze expectantly at him. She didn’t even bother to hide her amusement. Well, this wasn’t getting awkward at all. 

 

“And what about you?” she asked finally after realising he wasn’t going to volunteer any information without being asked direct questions. Well, she could do that. She was used to ferreting details out of people. In her job it was an absolute requirement.

 

Phil looked at her with raised eyebrows. “What about me?”

 

“Well, you’ve obviously discussed  his kinks. What does he think about yours?”

 

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

 

“Phiiiiil? You have discussed both your kinks, haven’t you?”

 

Phil hesitated. “Not in so many words. He eh...keeps changing the subject or…” 

 

“Or fucking your brains out,” Pepper finished for him using exactly the same words that had gone through his mind earlier.

 

This time he choked on a chunk of ice he’d been sucking as he thought how to phrase it delicately. Guess he didn’t need to worry about damaging her sensibilities in future.

 

Pepper sat back in her seat taking a swallow of her Godiva liqueur. 

 

“Well then,” she said brightly. “That’s two conversations you better have pretty soon. One with your boy and another with his father. I  do love our get togethers, Phil. They’re always  so entertaining.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come hang with us on tumbler 
> 
> ThePurpletie797 
> 
> Lola381pce


	4. Big Red, Chicken Soup, and Pizza

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Don't you have your own floors to drip all over now, boy? And… why the hell does your backpack have a nose?! If you got a girl in trouble and that's your kid in there… a) we need to work on your parenting skills, and b) I hope you know you will never live this down Mr. Im-so-gay-I-shit-rainbows.” Clint thought it was funny how some things could still be familiar but completely different at the same time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys thanks for hanging in there! Here's another chapter. The next one is mostly written, i just need to finish the smut ; ) so it shouldn't take too long. Big thanks as usual to Lola381pce as my Co author and beta of the story.

Daddy 3-3

 

Clint thought it was funny how some things could still be familiar but completely different at the same time. When he was a kid, the countertops he sat on every day after school to tell his pop about his day had been white formica, marked and scuffed; they were now black granite. The floors he regularly tracked mud on, once linoleum, were now stained and treated hardwood. This may not have been his childhood home where he was raised by his adoptive pop but the kitchen was always where they spent most of their time, even now, and perhaps so long as a house had a kitchen, even if it looked different, it would feel the same.

 

The kitchen table however, hadn’t changed. It was an old hand crafted round table that was older than he was. His pop was right when he said they just don't make furniture like that any more. Though it had been well maintained, it still bore the marks it had acquired from years of being a much loved and well used piece. He smiled to think of the non-conversations, he and his pop had had sitting there. It was the same table his adoptive father sat him at to give him his first real meal after months on the run from foster care, which when you were not quite eleven years old, was a life time. 

 

Clint would never forget that night, or all the others since…

 

 

_The man he just tried (and failed miserably) to hold up, for hopefully a few twenties, took him home and cooked him a steak. Steak! He had never had one in his life. There were also mashed potatoes, though they were from a box, and the green beans were from a can. Clint didn't care though. He devoured two portions of everything, while sitting through an hour long lecture. Later that night his body gave it all back to the porcelain god in retaliation for the sudden introduction of too much rich food. He was stuck with chicken soup and crackers for nearly a week._

_That night set the tone for the rest of their relationship. Clint would make a mistake, Marcus would let him, and when things turned south his new pop was there with the proverbial crackers and soup and a jovial “Serves you right you little shit.” and later would add in “so, next time you’ll…” for good measure._

_It was the same table he spilt Big Red soda on when he was twelve when he heard fire trucks pass by for the first time in three years. Despite several attempts at sanding and restaining, the faint red mark still lingered. He thought the one well placed hit by his father at the age of nine that sent him crashing into a glass and wood coffee table inevitably taking almost eighty percent of his hearing, had ended his chance of ever hearing one again. But Marcus gave him that back and so much more. It was was where he learned sign language, which as it turned out Marcus was already fluent in, thanks to its usefulness in his line of work._

_It was the table he learned to clean and maintain guns at, and did his homework at. Choose his college, celebrated graduations and heard for the first time that someone was truly proud of him, even loved him (whether he liked it or not). It was even were he came out for the first time._

_Marcus had sat him down with burgers and milk shakes after school one evening when he was fourteen, declaring that he was far overdue for ‘the talk.’ But at the first mention of female anatomy Clint's immediate response was, “Ew those are gross!”_

_Marcus blinked a few times before responding. “What? Vaginas, breasts?”_

_“Eww! Yes.”_

_“Okay… and what? Penises, pecs and six packs aren't? They're good? Appealing? Fun?”_

_“Yes. Though they don't have to have a six pack, four is good.”_

_“So kissing boys?”_

_“Good.”_

_“Kissing girls?”_

_“Ew that's gross pop, stop it. I’m eating.”_

_“I see.” Marcus took a deep breath then stood and walked out._

_He returned a moment later only to plop a large variety box of condoms on the table in front of the adolescent._

_“Wrap it before you tap it, and always stretch before you workout” was the last thing said before clearing the table._

_To anyone else his surrogate father's reaction would have seemed cold, uncaring, and unsupportive. But to Clint it was anything but. In fact later that evening after his shower he found a thick packet of printed information (from very reliable sources no doubt knowing his pop) on anal sex, safe sex, and STDs. It was far more comprehensive than he would ever get in school. And he did actually read it...eventually._

_It wasn't that Marcus had ever raised him to believe men shouldn't be emotional, or that their was even a particular behavior set for men and women. They just didn't need to talk about it. The condoms and the information were all Clint needed. They spoke volumes words never could. Not to mention had the added bonus of being less awkward. The condoms meant Marcus knew he was a little shit and would do as he pleased, but that he clearly wanted to minimize the consequences. Then he took the time out of his busy schedule to do the research for the right information. Marcus knew carefully picked articles would be far more helpful to the boy then anything a straight man could say._

_As far as dating advice? Well it often came in the form of general life advice. Like “If you don't respect yourself, why should anyone else?”_

_Or “Good men are hard to come by these days, so I just don't give a fuck what shade makeup you wear, where you put your dick, hell if you even have one, which politicians’ lies you believe, or if you think the universe was made while your god was taking a shit. If I find a good man, I keep him close to my pocket.”_

_But Clint's favorite was always the time he got into a fight so bad his senior year in high-school that he almost got kicked out. Being deaf in high school had been hard, being adopted made it harder, being gay was just crap flavoured icing on his shit cake. Even with his pop’s support, he always felt like a failure and like he had something to prove. He had even started acting up at home. To Marcus credit though, he never in his life raised a hand to the boy, and only rarely his voice. But this time Clint knew the man was at his wits end._

_He sat right at that very table quietly, barely even flinching as his pop tended his various bruises and abrasions. It was coming, the ‘I can't do this, you need to leave speech.’ He’d heard it plenty times before in his short stint in the system. At least now he was better prepared take care of himself. But what followed shook him to the core in a way he wasn't expecting._

_“I know what you're trying to do Clint. And I'm telling you, it's not going to work”_

_“Wha-?”_

_“You're trying to get out of going to college and get rid of me. I'm telling you it's not going to work. You're stuck with me, whether you like it or not. Just because you throw tantrums, pick fights and you're possibly, okay, probably gay (he still held out hope Clint was a late bloomer to be Bi, in hopes of grandchildren) it doesn't mean I'm gonna tuck tail and run. We’re family. It's what we do. And you are going to college. And if you managed to fuck up your chance of that big beautiful NYU scholarship, you’re going to community college. And you’re not gonna do it for me or even to get a good job. You’re gonna do it for you. So you can look in the mirror many years from now and say I'm the best man that I can be.”_

_Marcus put the cotton ball down and looked Clint straight in the eye. “So it's up to you. You can do this the easy way, or the hard way. But either way… I'm there the whole way, so just get used to it.”_

_Clint considered his options for a moment then took a deep breath before replying, “The easy way comes with college parties far away from you right?”_

_“Usually, yeah.”_

_“Ok, sounds good.”_

_“Ok then. Go wash up for dinner”_

_“Yes sir.” Clint had barely made it to the stairs when he was stopped._

_“Oh and Clint. You realize, since you can't get rid of me that whoever you decide to keep around has to put up with me too, right?”_

_“Yes sir, I do.”_

_Clint knew exactly what ‘put up with him’ meant. It meant Clint had the freedom to fuck up as usual and pop would be there with chicken soup and crackers. Unless the other guy fucked up… then the guy would need last rights._

 

 

It was at that very same table where he was taught to be a good man, no a good person (though most days he's lucky to pass for an adult) where he now sat cold and wet cradling a shivering, tired, hungry little bundle in his arms, seeking guidance once more. 

 

Only in Texas would you have three solid weeks of beautiful eighty degree weather only to be thrown a cold front at the end of April. Shortly after moving down a friend had told him ‘if you don't like the weather, just wait a few hours.’ and boy had they been right. It had been 78 degrees and sunny when he got to the precinct that morning. 

 

It would be his luck to find a puppy on a day like that one, a week before he went truck shopping. She had been wandering up and down the rain-soaked highway dodging rush hour traffic. No-one stopped, no-one cared. That is, until Clint pulled over and ran through the downpour and two lanes of speeding angry drivers. 

 

He was broken out of his contemplations by his Pop’s voice. 

 

“Don't you have your own floors to drip all over now, boy? And… why the hell does your backpack have a nose?! If you got a girl in trouble and that's your kid in there… a) we need to work on your parenting skills, and b) I hope you know you will never live this down Mr. Im-so-gay-I-shit-rainbows.”

 

Clint sighed as he unzipped his backpack that he'd been clutching in his lap. Once opened he moved aside his bundled sweatpants and t-shirt to reveal that the owner of the nose was a small blue pitbull puppy. Her fur was practically silver and her eyes a deep, vibrant blue that looked remarkably like his lover’s. 

 

“A puppy? You brought a puppy over here? And what is he doing in your backpack?”

 

“I was coming home from work on my bike when I saw her stuck in the middle Lane. Poor thing almost got hit. So I just stuck her in my backpack and brought her here. I figured you’d know what to do.” 

 

“Me? You're the one with a dog.”

 

“Exactly! I can't bring a new dog straight in to Lucky’s territory. Besides she has to be tested for parasites and stuff first.”

 

“You said ‘she’ so it's a girl?”

 

“I don't know.”

 

Marcus let out an exasperated sigh. “Well does anything dangle?”

 

Clint rolled his eyes. “I haven't had a chance to look, pop.”

 

When Clint reached into the bag to remove the scared dog in hopes of drying and feeding her, he was not expecting the reaction he got. She yelped, and immediately tried to dive back into the bag. 

 

After several minutes of gentle coaxing and handing he managed to pull her free. She (the pup was infact a girl) seemed content enough to be held Clint while Marcus inspected her. 

 

“Well I'll be damned. Does this look familiar to you?” Marcus asked as he very slowly and gently extended her front paw to show his son his horrible discovery. There was a broken bloody stick just a few inches long protruding from her front leg just above her ankle. Clint figure part of the exposed what caught on the bag as he pulled her out, poor baby. 

 

“Fucking bastard! Someone shot her with an arrow and what? Just left her?”

 

“Yeah but it looks like you got a smart one on your hands. You’re right, it's definitely an arrow shaft but lucky for her it looks like wood - she was able to chew the ends off. Gave herself at least a little mobility and protection that way.”

 

Clint was fuming. He couldn't believe how heartless and cruel people could be, and to a sweet little thing like her no less. 

 

“Lucky’s vet has a 24 hour emergency center. Dr. Foster and Thor are usual there after hours, they can help. She has to go tonight but there is no way I'm taking her on my bike again. Pop, I need a ride.”

 

“Son, while I appreciate what you're trying to do there is no way in hell I'm putting a wet bleeding dog in my new Porsche. But I do have an idea. Do what you can for her I'll be right back.”

 

While Marcus was in the other room, Clint carefully wrapped her paw with padding and gauze to stabilize the stick then very gently dried the puppy off and gave her water. While she was certainly able to walk on her own - even if it was more of a hobble - she much preferred being wrapped in the warm clean towel from the dryer while Clint held her in his lap.

 

When Marcus returned he pulled two beers from the fridge and a half a roll of Ritz crackers from the pantry before sitting at the table across from Clint and the now sleeping puppy. 

 

“Sorry just got back from Tia Juana a couple days ago, haven't had a chance to get more than the necessities.” Marcus said motioning to his offerings. 

 

“Eh, that's alright by me.” Clint said as he took his first swig of beer, then popped a buttery cracker into his mouth. 

 

“So is this the start?”

 

“Start of what?”

 

“Animal hoarding.” 

 

“Wha… No. I'm not… look I'm not now nor will I ever be a damn animal hoarder. But...I think I would like to have a dog rescue centre of some kind when I retire.”  

 

“Oh yeah? Sounds nice. Ya know they're calling that something different these days.”

 

“Oh yeah? What?”

 

“Animal hoarding.”

 

Clint let out an exaggerated sigh before taking a long drink of the overly bitter brew is Pop was so fond of. “No it’s not, there's regulations and stuff.”

 

“Think you’ll have more than five dogs?”

 

“Yeah. Maybe. At some point.”

 

“Then it's hoarding.”

 

Clint rolled his eyes and shoved several crackers in his mouth at once in an attempt to keep it from running. 

 

“Look I just don't want to get a call in twenty years to go to the morgue so I can identify your body from a birthmark on your ass because one day you tripped, couldn't get up, and your dogs chewed your face off. Because then I don't get to bury you with an open casket at your funeral. That would just piss me off. You remember our deal? If you go first, you have to have an open casket so I can draw Sharpie mustaches on you and stupid shit like that. I don't want to go through all that shit, all because you were lonely.”

 

When his pop ended his lecture with a drink of his beer and a cracker Clint decided it was his cue to respond. 

 

“I get all that. But pop, I'm not lonely. I date.”

 

“Exactly you date, I don't know if you got the memo kid, but you’re starting your third decade of life here. Yeah, you’re still young but don't you think it’s about time you slow down, maybe even start to settle down, just a bit.”

 

Before his son could voice his protests, Marcus cut him off and continued. 

 

“This isn't me pushing you to tie the knot and adopt a bunch of hellions and all that. Marriage and kids aren't for everyone. I respect that. But maybe just a companion. A person who is a constant in your life. An ear to listen, a shoulder to cry on, and a warm bed doesn't hurt either. It may not appeal to you now but one day, it just might.”

 

“It's not that I don't want that. That actually sounds pretty nice. But the thing is… for that to happen… someone has to actually want to keep you that long.” Clint said wistfully while staring at the ceiling and stroking the puppy's ears. 

 

“That's right. But did you ever consider that, maybe, someone already does.”

 

“Uh...what? I mean...eh, what are you talking about? No one…”

 

“You sure about that? Cause I saw a giant purple hickey, right below your shirt collar at the boil when Steve was taking a peak for himself. Don't look so surprised. You should know by now you can't hide anything from me, boy. But that hickey was as big as Texas and uglier than your purple prom tux. One like that takes work, it says keep your fucking hands off. That is the mark of a man trying to stake his claim… big time.”

 

Clint took a long deep steadying breath. His mind was reeling. Not only was this the most direct Marcus had been with him in years, but he had planted the seed that maybe, just maybe he mean more to Phil than just a pretty face, that maybe Phil did or maybe one day would want to keep him. 

 

“Ya really think so, pop?”

 

“Oh yeah.”

 

“But… what if… look it doesn't matter. When he sees I'm a little shit he'll bail… just like the others.”

 

Marcus reached across the table and in one smooth nothing, yanked down the collar of his tee to reveal another giant purple hickey. Marcus let out a long low whistle as he let go and sat back down. “Given that he's known you this long and he's still branding you like cattle… trust me… he knows… and clearly doesn't care.”

 

Clint busied himself with eating and drinking and staring at old pen dents in the table. He wasn’t sure what his pop was getting at. The only time they ever had serious conversations this long were when sports were involved. Did his pop know about Phil? Nah. Not possible. If he did someone would have broken knee caps by now (That was the best case scenario). So what, was he supposed to wax poetic and pour his heart and soul out now? No that was not their style. Ever. Clint's thoughts were interrupted before he had a chance to solve the puzzle. 

 

“So I know what you mean to him, but what I'm curious about… is what this man he means to you.”

 

What the hell Clint didn't know! “I… Uh.. He.. “

 

“Is he special?”

 

Okay that was much easier. “Uh… yeah… he, yeah. He’s special.”

 

“But is this gonna be like Steve in Montana? Because what went wrong there was…”

 

“Yeah pop, I know. And, no, I won't let it happen again. But… he's different, they’re kinda the same but they're not… He’s… special.”

 

If Marcus was confused by Clint's ramblings, he never let on. “Good, because I'm not picking up those pieces again.” He polished off his beer before continuing. 

 

“So, since this guy is… special, am I gonna meet him?”

 

Clint trapped his knuckle between his teeth for a moment before answering so softly Marcus almost missed it. “I dunno… maybe.”

 

“Okay, now get that mutt the hell outta my kitchen I just had it cleaned.”

 

***

 

A short time later back up arrived. It really shouldn't have surprised him who it was. 

 

Phil got the the call from Marcus just as he was packing his briefcase for the day. All his friend said was for him to come over as soon as possible, that he needed help with Clint, then ended the call. Phil was immediately filled with nervous dread. It wasn't even so much that he never said what was wrong, just that he used the boy's name meant Marcus was taking whatever was going on very seriously. He crushed down all the possible awful scenarios that his imagination brought to life and head straight for his friend’s house. 

 

Upon arrival he was both relieved and annoyed to find he was called in urgently only to act as a chauffeur.

 

“A ride to the vet? That's what was so important? I thought he was hurt.”

 

“Hurt? Him? Nah, that kids made of Kevlar and rubber, always comes out fine. Hell he even ran into the middle of traffic on I-45 during rush hour to grab the critter.”

 

“He did what? It's been pouring all afternoon over there. That's ...suicidal.”

 

“I'm telling you, Cheese, rubber and Kevlar.”

 

Phil sighed in defeat. There was no point in arguing, he just might give himself away if he hadn't already. And Phil really didn't want to analyze why the one phone call had him so upset and worried. 

 

When Phil walked into the living room the sight before him made his heart clench, but this time in a very good way. Clint was curled up on the old sofa with a small silver blue puppy tucked right under his chin. They were both covered in an old, ratty NYU throw blanket. Now Phil was trying to tamp down the warmth that sweet boy had caused to flood through him. Shit! Had he gotten himself in to mess. 

 

He walked over to the couch where the pair rested, draping his suit jacket over a kitchen chair along the way. He loosened his tie and knelt down in front of them. The puppy’s eyes opened as his finger gently caressed the fur of one ear. His voice was soft and soothing as he spoke causing her tail to wag feebly under the throw.

 

“Hi pretty girl, I heard you had quite an exciting day. Well, I’m afraid it's not over yet. Alright Clint are you two ready to go, or are you gonna nap the rest of the night?” Phil surprised himself, because what he really wanted to ask was if he could join them. 

 

Clint sat up, careful not to disturb his new cuddle buddy. “I'm just fine and ready to go, sir. She's the one who probably hasn't slept in days. Thought it might be easier with a warm body.”

 

Phil nodded and led them out to his jeep which Marcus had already filled with old clean towels. He left himself no time to contemplate just how the younger man arrived at those conclusions. 

 

Once at the clinic they were greeted by a very handsome mountain of a man named Thor, who as the turned out was Dr. Foster, the vet’s husband. They owned and started the clinic together; Dr. Foster was head of all the medical facilities and team while Thor kept the front, intake, and business side of things running smoothly. 

 

“Greetings Officer Barton! I didn't think Lucky was due for a check up so soon. Is it his hip again?” the tall muscular blonde boomed. 

 

“Clint, it's just Clint. No Lucky’s fine. Great actually. I pulled this little girl off the highway she looks really under fed and her leg is in bad shape.” Clint told the Norwegian as he handed the puppy over. She squirmed and whined till she was safely and firmly tucked in Thor's arms. 

 

“My little lady, such trouble you have found yourself in, by no fault of your own I assure you. Worry not my friend, all will be well. Off to Jane we go.”

 

And with that Thor whisked the silver puppy off for immediate medical care. 

 

When Thor returned some time later it was with a clipboard in hand. “Upon her cursory examination the female pup is approximately six weeks old suffering from malnutrition, with fleas and most likely has parasites, as well as an infection of her wound. She was most likely abandoned. The good news is that all those issues are easily treatable and Dr Foster feels confident that she can remove the foreign object and the pup should have full use of her leg with no permanent damage once she is healed. Should even be able to go home later tonight.”

 

“You said that's the good news, what's the bad news?”Clint asked with a face full of dread. 

 

“Now you have paperwork!” Thor told him cheerfully as he handed the paper packet over to the younger man. 

 

“Aww, paperwork.”

 

In the hour he had spent with Clint had become clear to Phil very quickly that the young man truly cared and worried for the wellbeing of the dog. The drive had been spent in relative silence, at least between the humans. The only words were the ones of praise and comfort Clint whispered in the puppy’s ear as he rocked her against his chest. Phil decided he would do his best to make things as easy as possible and to get Clint and his new companion home as quickly as he's able. 

 

Phil promptly took the clipboard from the office manager’s hands and led Clint to sit with him in the hard plastic chairs of the waiting room. 

 

“I can do this. First off, what's her name?”

 

Phil asked as he hovered the pen over the open. 

 

“I dunno.”

 

“I know it's important, and you really haven't had time to think about it. But we just need something for the time being, I'm sure you can change it easy enough when you have a better one.”

 

“Perhaps Lille Krigeren for now. Very suiting I think. It means ‘Little Warrior’ in my native tongue.” Thor suggested from where he sat at the reception desk. 

 

Clint looked weary and defeated. Phil began to suspect he was taking this far more personally than he originally thought, and that there might even be another issue that had yet to be brought to light. 

 

Clint turned to Phil with a sad helpless expression etched into his face. “I’m not… I can't keep her. I want to. I do. But my schedule is too sporadic and unpredictable for a new puppy with medical needs.”

 

Clint wasn't keeping her? That definitely surprised Phil. 

 

“I see. Okay. Why not take her to a shelter, Houston is a big city, we should be able to find a no kill shelter.”

 

“I have a list that may be of help, I also know of a Pit Bull rescue in the Dallas area that would gladly take her, if you do not mind the journey.” Thor interjected as he poked his head up from his computer screen once more. “It is where Jane and I got our Pit bull terrier Assgardian. Such a sweet boy he is.”

 

Clint huffed out a frustrated sigh. “No. No shelter, no rescue. Just. No. We can't. I can't just leave our little warrior with someone we don't know. Who knows what could happen to her!”

 

“So what will you do with her?” Phil prodded gently. 

 

“I don't know.” Clint said quietly before putting his knuckles back to his lips. “But our little warrior is not gonna be tossed in cage and forgotten about like she doesn't matter. She does. She matters.”

 

Since the little warrior left his grasp Clint had been worrying at his knuckles non stop. But now, his thumb was making its way into his mouth. Phil felt safe in assuming that meant Clint was feeling very upset and helpless. And that, just tore his heart to shreds. The wheels began to turn in his mind on how to help his sweet boy.

 

Clint sighed in defeat once more before before changing his focus to tapping away at his phone. 

 

“Thor? You have one pit bull, would you like another?” Phil asked hopefully. It was a long shot but if it worked he was sure it would be enough to quell Clint's fears. 

 

“I would, as they are such loving creatures, but alas, we already have two other dogs, a Mastiff and a chihuahua. As well as a cat and a hedgehog. I'm afraid while our hearts have endless room for creatures in need of love, our home does not.” Thor said while looking truly bothered by his own announcement. 

 

He looked back to Clint when he heard the soft thump of his boy’s head hitting the beige wall. His hair had dried, sticking to his forehead and in other odd directions, his blue H.P.D t-shirt still had damp spots and wrinkles as did his jeans. And in the fist that wasn't once again pressed to his mouth, was the towel that had swaddled the little warrior not long ago. He clutched it like a lifeline that he would not allowed to be severed. Overall he just looked… done. 

 

Clint was taking this personally. While Phil didn't have any real contact with the boy while he was growing up. He did know that he’d come from an abusive home then ran away from Foster care after only a year at around the age of ten. This wasn't about the dog. This was about the obvious emotional neglect and mistreatment he suffered in his early years. Phil thought it was safe to assume Clint saw a bit of himself in the dog. 

 

Phil knew he shouldn't be this emotionally involved. Clint had made it quite clear that what they had wouldn't become anything. That all he wanted from Phil was sex and a bit of companionship. There would never be any sweet words of love and devotion. He was free to leave at any time, to have another lover in the meantime if wanted. Another daddy. Phil felt sick to his stomach as images of the beautiful Steve holding his boy flooded his mind. 

 

Phil knew he shouldn't get attached, that it would only lead to his own pain and heartache. Only, it was too late, he was already attached. Very attached. In the short time they had been lovers, Clint had most certainly become his. To Phil at least. And unfortunately only to Phil. So as he saw it there was only one option, he had to take care of his boy afterall. And he had contemplated getting a dog for some time now. To have someone to come home to. To have a companion when Clint is…gone. Fuck! What a pathetic old man he was. Still, his mind was made up. Here goes nothing. But he was stopped with a proverbial punch to the gut. 

 

“Steve can't either, says Bucky is horribly allergic to dogs. Seems they’re roommates now.” Clint told him completely emotionless. While waving his phone through the air. It seemed he was texting the other man while he spoke to Thor and considering his life with and without Clint.

 

Phil wanted to throw up again. He’d asked Steve first. Phil had to push down the overwhelming feelings of hurt and possession, and focus on the issue at hand. That's right there was an issue, one he had a solution to. Him not Steve. That's why he was Clint's daddy. No one could take care of his boy like he could. Oh boy… those might not be the healthiest thoughts he ever had… but he could deal with that later… much later. But for now he had a good sweet boy to cheer up. 

 

“Clint.”

 

Phil tried to get his boy’s attention, but Clint's eyes remained closed with his head leaning back against the wall. Up to this point neither had displayed any affection toward the other outside the privacy of their homes. But right now, his boy needed him. Besides they had no friends or family to bear witness, only an office manager who at the moment seemed too buried in his work too notice or care. So he tried once more to get his lover’s attention. 

 

“Sweetheart,” Phil said gently as he reached out to touch Clint's cheek, turning the boy’s head in the process. When Clint turned to him and opened opened his eyes Phil felt his heart disintegrate at the sight of unshed tears. 

 

It seemed the idea of sending a sweet loving dog who had done nothing wrong off with no guarantees of love seemed to be hitting the boy far too close to home. But Phil could, would fix that. He had no doubt he would love him, no, her with all his heart, without even trying. 

 

“It's alright sweetheart, don't cry. Everything will be alright, I promise.” Phil told his sweet boy as he wiped a stray tear away with his thumb. 

 

“Oh yeah? And how do you know that?” Clint asked skeptically. 

Phil smiled warmly and kissed his boy’s forehead. “Because sweetheart, it seems I'm getting a new dog.”

 

Clint couldn't believe his ears Phil, who he'd already dragged clear across town for the ride to and from the vet, was now opening his home and possibly… his heart? To Their little stray warrior. Clint didn't want to get his hopes up though. This could be perfect, Phil would take such good care of their little girl. Wait. Their? That… might be a problem. Clint was certain considering your casual lover's dog to be half yours was a bad idea. Except… it felt natural. 

 

“Really? Are you sure?”

 

Phil looked at him so tenderly, Clint's guts all turned to goo. But he did look happy maybe he really did just want a dog. That was it. It's not like he was doing this for him. That would be ridiculous. But his pop did say… 

 

“Absolutely. But, on one condition. You have tomorrow off yes? It wouldn't kill me to use a vacation day and take off to have a three day weekend. So, stay tonight and help me set up. What do you say?”

 

Clint's heart was pounding in his chest. Phil was keeping her and Clint got to spend the night (possibly the weekend) with both of them. 

 

Clint threw his arms around his daddy in a tight bear hug and whispered in his ear, “Thanks Phil… you’re the best daddy. Ever.”

 

Phil's hand stroked through the mess of hair on top of his boy's head. He was relieved to see he had infact brought a smile (a huge one complete with bright green eyes) back to his sweet boy's face. That made every mile he drove and every wrinkle that was currently being put in his favorite suit worth it. And Clint called him the best daddy ever. Even though he knew Clint didn't actually mean that, it was still wonderful to hear.

 

“Anything for you, my dear sweet boy. Anything.”

 

It took a while but Phil did manage to fill out the paperwork work, and fight off Clint's credit card. The little warrior even had a name now. Artemis, the Greek goddess of the hunt, weapon of choice, bow and arrow (courtesy of Thor's suggestion). It was a strong but elegant name, it suited her just perfectly. 

 

It took even longer though to convince Clint that she was in good hands and still had at least a couple hours before they could take her home. Thor had suggested they leave her for the night and Phil once again had a nearly hysterical boy on his hands. Which meant it took even longer to convince him to go to the pet store and grab some food. Thor assured them that when they returned Artemis (though Phil had already started calling her Arty) would be all set to make her final journey to her forever home. 

 

Once the doors to Phil's SUV closed around them the gravity of the day finally really began to sink in for Clint. Too many memories hit him all at once. Six foster homes in a year, at which most them hit him, yelled at him, or treated him like he was a dumbass. On a couple occasions all three. He recalled his months on the streets before he met Marcus. Avoiding gangs, finding places to sleep, dodging child services, and finding food. Some nights the offers from the pimps were a little too tempting for his comfort. 

 

Phil watched as his boy at beside silently falling apart. By this point he knew when Clint was in need of some TLC from daddy. While he made a point to let Clint initiate the kink and age play on a sexual level, Clint seemed to always be readily accepting of his daddy’s comfort. 

 

Phil lifted the armrest between them, slid in beside Clint and gathered his boy in his arms. 

 

“There now, daddy is here. Everything will be all right.”

 

Clint whimpered and burrowed his face into Phil's neck. “Daddy.”

 

“That's right, daddy’s here.” 

 

Before Clint could latch his lips to the exposed skin of his lover’s neck, Phil gently pulled his head back and slipped two fingers into his boy’s mouth. 

 

As Clint sucked the digits furiously while staring up at his caring daddy, Phil showered him in praise and reassurance that he knew the boy, his boy, needed to hear. 

 

“That's it, good boy, just relax. You had such a hard day. But you are such a brave boy. You are. Saving the puppy like that. And making sure she's taken care of. Such a brave strong boy. Now let's eat and go shopping and buy some nice pretty things for little Artemis. Alright? And then when we get home later tonight, daddy will take good care of his sweet boy. How does that sound honey?”

 

All Clint could do was nod as he let the praise and promises wash over him like warm water, and curled tighter into his daddy's chest. He didn't want to move. This was perfect, exactly what he needed. Everything that had happened, every worry he had, every memory that tried to haunt him, was gone. Because his daddy was there and he would take care of him. 

 

Once Phil had Clint calmed and managed to dislodge himself (reluctantly on both their parts) they headed off to get a sandwich where the two of them barely managed to share one between them. Declaring dinner a failure (though Phil swore his boy would be well feed by bed time, they just had to get through all this first) they headed off to the nearest pet superstore Phil found in his GPS. 

 

Once there they started working through the list Thor gave him of appropriate food, cleaners, sprays, supplements, and other necessities. While wandering through the treats aisle Phil decided he would be taking Artemis to SHIELD with him, at least till she got older (at least that was the plan) so he could supervise, train, and administer medical care as needed throughout the day. So when Thor’s list was done and they were on to accessories and training aids, they pretty much bought two of everything. Except the beautiful pink plaid collar with a large pink bow, a matching walking harness and leash. Only one of each was needed. As for toys, well Phil wasn't sure they left any in the aisle for other shoppers. 

 

By the time the men made it out (dividing the supplies by destination as they loaded the Jeep) they were both giddy with excitement over the newest member of the Coulson family. Her new purple rhinestone studded tag even read “Artemis Lille Coulson” Phil used the SHIELD contact information as he or someone could always be reached there. 

 

Sure enough when they reached clinic they were immediately ushered into an examination room where Jane waited for them with Artemis. The puppy was wrapped up in a clean towel in a bundle on the tall table gently gnawing at a toy. The arrow shaft had been removed, wounded treated and wrapped. She had been given her first few shots, parasite treatment, flea treatment, a flea bath, and now had a full belly of healthy food. 

 

As the men stood across the table from Jane listening to care instructions, vaccine and wellness check schedules Phil looked down when he felt tug around his neck. Artemis stood in front of him with the end of his favorite blue and silver Dolce and Gabanna tie clasped firmly in her tiny teeth, staring up at him with her big eyes, blue like a stormy ocean. 

 

“And just what do you think you're doing, young lady?” Phil asked as he leaned down to put himself at eye level, still connected by the strip of silk. 

 

Clint wanted to cry. Not because he couldn't keep the little girl, he was okay if Phil had her. No, he wanted to cry because seeing Phil being so gentle and caring (and not going into cardiac arrest now that his best tie was probably ruined) to the small creature was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. 

 

“She was trying to get your attention, Mr Coulson.” Dr. Foster supplied with a giggle. 

 

Artemis then walked to Phil, turned a couple times to wrap the tie around herself then leaned into Phil's shoulder. 

 

“Looks like she knows who her new daddy is.” Clint added with his trademark twinkle of mischief in his eyes. 

 

*****

After leaving the vet with Phil's new little girl they swung by Clint's house, so he could feed walk and check on his own dog and make sure he was okay till Steve came to pick him up a little later. 

 

Once they arrived at Phil’s home Clint was sent to a warm shower while Phil brought in the supplies, ordered dinner and settled Arty in to her new home. She had quickly become very insistent on being held almost constantly. To be fair at this point it was incredibly difficult to deny her anything. Including his tie. They couldn't get her to let go so Clint ended up driving the Jeep, and Phil held her the whole way while she slept with the damn thing in her mouth. 

 

When Clint came out into the livingroom, dinner had already been delivered and was waiting for him on the coffee table across from Phil. The tie was gone, the first few buttons at his collar were open and his sleeves rolled up. It was Clint's favorite look on the man though he did love those ties as much as Arty seemed to. 

 

“Hey, she finally let go?”

 

“Yes, when I offered her more food.” 

 

Phil said pointing lazily to the purple bowls on the kitchen floor. Had Clint not asked him a question that required an answer he would have forgotten to breathe. Clint stood before him in black sweat pants, his chest however was left bare his skin still glistening with moisture. His hair now once again stuck to his forehead. In one arm was Arnold his stuffed Armadillo. So in short he looked absolutely… breathtaking. 

 

Phil knew that in order to shower, swim or anything else that involved one's head getting wet a person with an implant should remove to prevent damage. Luckily (especially today) - because of the nature of Clint's job and the necessity of hearing for it - his external device had a waterproof covering. This allowed the boy some peace of mind while he worked, and also meant he didn't usually take off the external piece to shower at Phil's. Only when he went to sleep. 

 

“I see you got dinner.” Clint said as he flopped down next to Phil. 

 

“Yes I wanted to get something special for my brave boy. With such an exciting day you must be so hungry.”

 

Clint's cheeks turned bright red and he ducked his head into Phil's neck. “It's not a big deal. It was just the right thing to do is all.”

 

Phil let the particular subject drop, there was no point in embarrassing the boy. He could be praised in other ways. But later Phil would remind him that the right thing to do was often the hardest. 

 

“Well my good boy needs to eat. So I ordered cheese pizza, tomato and mozzarella salad, spicy parmesan boneless wings, fried pickles and dessert” Phil told his boy happily. He loved when he got the chance to spoil him like this 

 

“Not so sure about the salad and pickles, but the rest sounds great. Thank you daddy.” Clint was far more excited than he let on. Phil had ordered several of his favorites, and judging by the box, from Dan’s, their favorite pizza place. While Clint had nothing against toppings, hell he had a real soft spot for sausage, jalapeño and pineapple pizza, on nights like tonight he preferred things simple. He needed to unwind and just be… taken care of. Cheese pizza happened to be perfect for that. 

 

Amongst the spread were two six-packs of glass bottles, one was St Arnold’s Weedwacker beer. The other was St Arnold’s Root beer. Both sounded good. See the thing was Clint didn't exactly fit your standard definition of daddy kink and age play. Despite the fact that Steve was his daddy while they were together, this was one aspect that caused some of problems in their relationship. Daddy kink wasn't really role play to Clint. But it wasn't real either. He didn't know how to explain it. There weren't two Clints, him and 9 year old Clint. He wasn't a different version of himself when his daddy was around. It was just a part of him. Hell he wasn't even the one to call it daddy kink or age play, other people called it that. 

 

Clint had always been this way, he just always thought about it as having a very prominent inner child, or that he just didn't grow up all the way. He liked having someone to look after him, all the time someone who would… take charge for him. But he liked it best when that person was caring. And when he had a hard day it was nice to eat something… fun. And who the hell didn't like Disney (nothing topped the Little Mermaid). But sitting curled up with his daddy telling him he was a good boy, while watching an R rated movie, with beer and nachos was perfection. But it didn't fit. It caused problems when Steve would tell him little boys couldn't have beer or watch Kill Bill. Steve once even tried to put him in footie pajamas. Clint cringed. 

 

Phil had been a different story entirely. As he reached for Phil's favorite beer the man never said a word about it being not for him, or that he had clearly gone out of his way to find the old fashioned brewed root beer for his sweet boy. He merely took the bottle, opened it and handed it back with a kiss to his forehead and a “Here you go my sweet boy, I think you'll like this one.”  

 

That was the biggest difference between Steve and Phil. Phil handed him the beer, but he was still his sweet boy (which he found he liked far better than when Steve called him baby boy) 

Phil just ran with his lead, and let him guide them in any direction they were both comfortable with, never judging or criticizing. He couldn't put it into words, he was just different from other littles, but so far Phil hadn't asked him to. It just… worked for them. 

 

“Alright sweetheart, time to eat.”

 

“Can we do that later?” Clint wined as he curled tighter into Phil's side, with his toy clutched close and his other hand letting the puppy that now spanned both of their laps. 

 

The moment Phil felt his boy’s lips begin to worry at his neck he knew, that while Clint seemed improved he was still in need of the comfort that was cut short earlier. Well that was ok, he ordered what he did for a reason. 

 

“No honey, you barely ate half a sandwich hours ago, I need you to eat something now. And if you're a good boy for me and eat your dinner I have a special dessert for us later. But I'll compromise, you don't have to move. Okay?”

 

“I don't have to move?”

 

“No sweetheart, I'll take care of everything, you just hold little Arty for me, OK?” Phil said as he shifted the dog into Clint's lap and dislodged his boy for just a moment. He reached forward to pull the coffee table right up to their knees, opened all the containers, and using a pizza cutter, cut a slice into small bite sized pizza. On any other occasion Clint would have found the act morally reprehensible (the only thing worse would have been using a fork, that was just unforgivable) but if his hunch was right, well he was sure he could let it slide this time. Clint bit his lip in anticipation. 

 

Phil leaned back and pulled Clint in close once more, with his arm securely wrapped around his boy's shoulders. 

 

“Now you just relax, all you have to do is eat and take care of our little girl. Maybe try to keep her sleeping, since she doesn't know not to beg yet. Daddy will take care of everything else. Now open wide.”

 

Clint opened his mouth to let Phil place the piece of cheese covered bread. He closed his lips around the digit, then very slowly and deliberately allowed them to drag over the skin - his tongue cleaning the grease off as he went - to pull the piece from his lover's gentle grasp. Clint quietly moaned in delight. The crust was thin and soft, but not soggy, the sauce was both acidic and sweet, the cheese was rich and flavorful, warm enough to still be gooey but not so hot as to burn his mouth. It was the closest thing to NY pizza he had found in Texas. 

 

Clint relaxed further into his daddy's hold as he was fed another bite. Clint could really get used to this. There was something both sensual and just peaceful about it. While it did conjure up memories of barbecue sex, which instantly made his dick grow heavy, this wasn't that. This was Phil's ultimate act of taking care of him, personally making sure he was well fed. Clint had never felt so special in his life. He wished that moment would last for ever. With that in mind he ate as slowly and languidly so he could. 

 

Phil watched in awe as Clint ate from his fingers. While it was certainly an… arousing sight, and he was quite certain they were both half hard from the start, and would love for this to take the same turn as the night of the rodeo, he knew that wasn't what Clint needed right now. Clint need to relax and let go, and as Phil suspected this seemed to be doing the trick. And Phil loved that he was the one to put that happy content expression on his boy's face. 

 

As the meal progressed Phil would feed Clint a few bites of pizza, then wings, and couple bites of the salad (which was just slices of tomatoes and fresh mozzarella and basil leaves covered in a balsamic glaze). As it turned out Clint loved it after all. As did Phil, because he got to lick the drips of glaze from his boy's chest. The fried pickles however were for Phil which Clint insisted he take breaks to eat as well as the pizza. 

 

It took the better part of an hour for them to finish, but when they did they were both pleasantly stuffed and lazy. So much so that the trio dozed off cuddled in a pile on the couch.  

 

 


	5. Dogs of The Little Shit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dogs of the little Shit pic set Sorry were having technical difficulties so we had to put it in its own chapter

Phils little Arty 

[](http://s1043.photobucket.com/user/ThePurpleTie979/media/Mobile%20Uploads/Bluenosepitbullpuppy1-300x199_zpsqaoefcdp.jpg.html)

Lucky 

[](http://s1043.photobucket.com/user/ThePurpleTie979/media/Mobile%20Uploads/images-5_zpsth86yaw4.jpg.html)

Arty and lucky will become good friends 

[](http://s1043.photobucket.com/user/ThePurpleTie979/media/Mobile%20Uploads/images-7_zpswsv6hrop.jpg.html)

 

Arty all grown up in Phil's office 

[](http://s1043.photobucket.com/user/ThePurpleTie979/media/Mobile%20Uploads/images-4_zpskkkwqc3t.jpg.html)

 

While poor lucky gets stuck at home 

[](http://s1043.photobucket.com/user/ThePurpleTie979/media/Mobile%20Uploads/images-6_zpsrp3ooqdg.jpg.html)

Except when he's working 

[](http://s1043.photobucket.com/user/ThePurpleTie979/media/Mobile%20Uploads/images-8_zpsakonubk7.jpg.html)


	6. Talk (Dirty) to Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Listen to me, sweetheart, I hate to be the one to break it to you, but not everything is about you. I have kinks too. I have things… dirty, filthy things I want to do to you. Things to make you scream, cry and beg for more in the best of ways. But I won't do them till I know they won't hurt or upset you and the right reaction - the screaming, crying and begging - is the reaction they'll get. I'm not asking you to spill your heart’s desires or deepest darkest secrets. I just need you to tell me what you like and how I can give to you. Shouldn't even take long.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok guys we are roughly at the half way point! Be sure to check the tags because we get into the bdsm and heavy daddy stuff in this chapter.

 

When Phil opened his eyes the lights were on, his neck was sore, and there was a weight on his chest. Those are never good signs at his age. A moment later he realized that he had fallen asleep with Clint and Artemis on the couch and the weight on his chest was his new puppy trying to crawl into the open collar of his now terribly wrinkled shirt. It was also still very dark out - at least the rain had stopped - so they must have only napped a few hours. Clint was gone but his maroon and white A&M throw covered them. It wasn't until he sat up to take a look around that he saw the sniper. 

 

After waking up and realizing that even snuggled on Phil's stomach with Artemis he had no chance of falling back to sleep, Clint decided to grab their trash, put away the drinks that were now warm, and get some water. While he was in the kitchen completing his tasks he found something that made his stomach churn with dread. 

 

On the counter (not hidden, but not quite in plain sight either) was a packet of papers with notes in the margin. Only a moment of skimming through it told him it was internet articles on daddy kink, ageplay and kink negotiations. Well damn! He figured it was too good to be true that Phil wouldn't need to talk about this. 

 

“What time is it?” Phil called softly from the couch. 

 

Clint looked up from the packet, nervous and guilty at both the contents and having been found with it in his grip. 

 

“Not quite four in the morning. Most days I'm up in an hour. Or working the night shift. So I’m up for the day I suppose. At least for a while. Hope I didn't wake you.”

 

Phil understood. Had Clint's absence not woken him he'd probably be up soon himself, despite having taken the day off. “No, I think it was more that Arty got snuggly and tried to crawl down my shirt. I just hope she's not spoiled by it already.”

 

“Well if you're up too then, I started the coffee pot, should be ready in a minute.”

 

Phil was glad Clint had seen his research. He had been trying for weeks now to talk to him about what he held in his hands. But not just Clint's kinks, his own as well. While they couldn't be considered extreme, they were far from vanilla. Phil worried that combining them with Clint's daddy kink could cause issues if he wasn't careful. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt his boy. That would absolutely kill him. 

 

But the fantasy of Clint with his ass bright red and sore, begging to come, was getting too strong and entering in his mind too often. He decided it was time he put his foot down and insist they had the talk. 

 

Only… Clint looked positively terrified the longer he looked at the stack of papers. Phil thought for a moment and decided maybe he was going about this all wrong. On whim he decided to take a page of of his best friend’s book (as much as it pained him to think of the man at the moment) and see if that offered better results. After all Marcus had practically written the book on how to have uncomfortable conversations (though theirs had typically been about injury or death). 

 

Phil picked up Artemis, who looked incredibly unhappy to be removed from her nest of Phil's clothing, and walked over to the opposite side of the kitchen counter island where Clint stood. 

 

“We should probably take her out to the yard for a bit, now that the rain has stopped. I'm gonna hop in shower. I'll meet you two outside for coffee. So you take this little one… and I'll take this.” Phil told the young man with a small comforting smile on his lips as he traded the puppy for the papers. 

 

Okay… maybe Clint had dodged the bullet once more afterall. 

 

Or maybe not. 

 

Clint had quickly changed his sweat pants for a pair of jeans and a light grey short sleeve Henley (might as well if they were starting their day), grabbed two cups of coffee, one black and one with milk and sugar (and a scoop of chocolate powder since no one was looking) and led Artemis outside to explore her new yard. 

 

Clint was sitting on the deck watching Arty launch attacks on flying bugs when the back door opened behind him to reveal Phil in black jeans and a grey long sleeve tee with a maroon A&M logo. Clint's stomach sank when he saw the packet in his hand as he sat down beside him. 

 

Clint couldn't keep his eyes off the papers as he handed Phil his strong black coffee. 

 

In a moment of panic Clint fell into his old defense tactic of being a little shit. 

 

“Don't know why you're carrying that around. We don't need it,” Clint told him casually before taking a ship of his caffeinated concoction.

 

“Oh yeah? Why is that? Are you prepared to lead this discussion by yourself? Because it's past time it needed to happen.”

 

Clint scoffed into his coffee cup. “No. Because no discussion needs to happen. Things are fine. You give me just what I need, and you seem to like it enough too. So… see? We're good.”

 

Before Clint knew it Phil had the back of his neck grasped in an unyielding but non-threatening grip. They were nose to nose and Phil voice became low, and dark but promising. 

 

“Listen to me, sweetheart, I hate to be the one to break it to you, but not everything is about you. I have kinks too. I have things… dirty, filthy things I want to do to you. Things to make you scream, cry and beg for more in the best of ways. But I won't do them till I know they won't hurt or upset you and the right reaction - the screaming, crying and begging - is the reaction they'll get. I'm not asking you to spill your heart’s desires or deepest darkest secrets. I just need you to tell me what you like and how I can give to you. Shouldn't even take long.”

 

By the end of Phil's small speech both their pupils were blown wide and Clint's breathing had become shallow. Still trapped by the other man's gaze and incredibly turned on he managed to speak.

 

“Let me get this straight. If I tell you what turns me on and how I like it, you do the same, then what. Sex gets wilder, kinkier, and hotter?”

 

“That's the idea.” Phil said as he let go and sat back to take a sip of his liquid humanity. 

 

Clint took a deep breath to steady himself before responding. “Ok sounds good. Where do we start?”

 

Phil decided to ease him into it by starting with his own. He wasn't sure why but the younger man seemed nervous to discuss his own kinks.

 

“How about with all the things I've been wanting to do to you for months?” Phil suggested. He made a point to keep his tone light to avoid things getting to heated before they were done. 

 

“Yeah, sounds good” Clint said again, slightly breathlessly. 

 

While Phil wanted nothing more than to recount every fantasy he had of his boy with his hands tied behind his back, while Phil fucked his mouth, he decide that could be counterproductive. 

 

“Well to start with, I like to be in charge. In control. I like bondage sometimes, orgasm denial, discipline, and food...well you know about that.” Phil couldn't help but pause for a chuckle. That was one thing he was confident they wouldn't have a problem with. 

 

“Ah, I prefer to top but wouldn't be opposed if you wanted to give It try on the right occasion. So… those are my preferred or standard needs but I'm usually up to try new things within my limits. My only kink that's pretty consistent, that I want on a regular basis is dirty talk, and I mean absolutely  filthy.  That and being in control, at least to some degree. My hard limits are pretty much the usual, blood, scat, urine, actual children and any thing that leaves a scar or permanent mark.”

 

Phil took a ship of his coffee as he allowed Clint a moment to process those before asking, “So what are your thoughts on those things? Anything they bring to mind?”

 

Clint sat beside him showing great focus on drinking is doctored brew. It was a moment later he finally answered. “Well, I'm with you on the hard limits, that stuff is disgusting to me and… I don't like being hurt…that's not sexy for me. So we're fine there. The rest sound kind of like BDSM. So, are you like a Dom? Are we talking 50 Shades or fuzzy handcuffs level here?”

 

“I guess you could call it that. I would say I'm in between the two.  Yeah, light BDSM and yes, I’m a Dom. But certainly  nothing like 50 Shades of Grey. You will always have a choice and I will always respect it. I just... I like my partners restrained, tied up comfortably with a scarf or…”

 

“A tie?”  Clint asked quietly, sounding almost hopeful. 

 

Phil huffed out a short laugh. “Yes, a tie would work well.”

 

“That’s… ok… that's good… yeah I'm good with that.”

 

“Good. As I was saying, I like my partner tied up and vulnerable. Fully reliant on me for pleasure or perhaps to be allowed to come. I like to push my partner's limits that way. But not too the point of discomfort.”

 

“Ok yeah that, sounds good. I could do that. I like it when you hold me down. I don't even mind bruises…sometimes, if I ask for them. I… trust you… so I… wanna try that stuff. Dabbled a bit in it in college, but everyone’s different you know. But.. Well what… what do you mean by discipline and dirty talk. Cause I… I got issues with being punished. And… look, just never call me mean names or… slut, whore, stupid, stuff like that. I'd probably cry.”

 

So far Clint was doing quite well. But now they were getting into the area that had Phil concerned. The reason this talk was necessary. His heart broke a little at seeing how tense his boy had become. In attempt to ease his worries, he pulled his boy into his side while stroking the nearest cheek with his fingers. 

 

“I would never say those things to you sweetheart. I’d never want my partner to feel bad or ashamed. Even if I was asked to, I couldn't.  I want to make you feel good and have fun. If anything my liking of dirty talk leans more towards praise then insult. I much rather tell you how well you take my cock and how pretty you look covered in my come. And the only reason you should cry is because I make you feel too good.”

 

Despite keeping his voice casual and light he could feel the shiver run down Clint's spine. He needed to get through this, and soon, they wouldn't last much longer. So he continued on. 

 

“As for punishment, well I use it as general term. I like giving spankings, with my hand, or paddle or a flogger. Not so it’s actually painful. But it's nice to see that bright red bottom. All though it doesn't have to be given as punishment for doing something wrong or bad. Infact I'd rather it not. It could be a reward. 

 

“No.” Clint's tone was firm and sharp, but that was hardly a surprise given his history of abuse.

 

“OK we won't do it. It was only if you wanted.” Phil told him in a soothing voice, as an effort to calm his agitated lover.

 

Clint released a frustrated sigh. “No. I mean… I'd like that, with your hand. I'm not sure about the other ones. But that's not a no. But… you can't be daddy… so, it can't be punishment, or a reward… you  can't  call me your sweet boy. And I am  not calling you daddy. Sorry I can't really explain it.”

 

Phil began to rub soothing circles on his boys back. He couldn't quite see why he was apologizing though. 

 

“It's alright you did just fine. So you’re saying it's a...grown up only activity just for fun, yes?”

 

Clint suddenly looked relieved. “Uh, yeah. Good way to put it.”

 

Clint didn't know why it was so hard to explain. It's not that he minded talking about this stuff, he just didn't know how. He was impressed Phil understood his nonsense. 

 

“So that's it?”

 

“No, my dear. This actually leads into something I need to know,” Phil told him as he continued to use his touch to keep the boy relaxed - he had all of a sudden become very tense as he sucked his knuckle. 

 

“I need you to tell me what rules I have as your daddy. Things I should not do, or should. Just like the spankings.”

 

Aww, kink talk, no.  Clint took a deep cleansing breath and curled into his daddy's side for support. He really wished it was easier to explain. 

 

“Well… like I said, don't be mean. That's the big one. I… I just couldn't handle it. You talked about praise, I like that, a lot,  all the time . Oh, uh, keep away from my head, you can pull my hair but just in top. Not too hard, and don't use it to, ya know, move me. The other thing is…”

 

“It’s alright, sweetheart. You can tell me.”

 

“You’re gonna think it's weird.”

 

The pieces began to fall into to place. Clint was self-conscious about his kink. Phil stomach twisted into knots at the thought someone one might have criticized or worse, shamed him for his kinks. 

 

“Is that what you've been told? Because the very nature of a kink is that it’s ‘unusual’.”

 

“No, not really. I mean I... dunno. People just don't seem to get it.”

 

“Tell me what it is. We'll take it from there. I promise I won't laugh and I certainly won't make you feel bad.”

 

“I never thought you would. In fact you’re doing right things so far…”

 

There was a pregnant pause before before Clint got the courage to continue. 

 

“I don't want to be treated like a kid.” Clint rushed out the words as quick as he could. 

 

That was not what Phil was expecting. He could see why people might have a hard time with that, even he was a little baffled. 

 

“Clint, I'm not saying I don't get it. But it is a little confusing. So I need you to explain it the best you can.”

 

“Phil this is stupid. We're fine. I like what you do.”

 

Clint was clearly struggling and needed a different approach. 

 

“Ok. What am I doing right?”

 

Clint couldn't fight the tiny smile that crept across his lips. That was much easier. But before he had a chance to answer, Phil continued.

 

“Specifically in regards to not treating you like a child.”

 

“Ok well… tonight… er, last night, even though you were doing daddy things like ordering me cheese pizza and cuddling me, I even called you daddy, you let me have a beer. You also don't care what I wear.”

 

“Why would I? You’re an adult - even when you’re being little. If you want to drink that's your choice. I'd only ever say something if you had to drive, same as I would for anyone. You can wear what you want. Though I rather like you in your jeans and those too small Henleys. Or nothing at all that's my favorite.”

 

“Yes!”

 

“What did I say?”

 

“I'm an adult!”

 

Okay then. While the pieces were falling together there were still a few missing. 

 

It was time for Nick Fury Awkward Conversations 101. When in doubt, interrogate.

 

“Clint I'm gonna ask some questions. Tell me the first thing that comes to mind, and just be honest.”

 

“Uh, ok.  But are we almost done? You smell really good.”

 

Phil managed to ignore both the question and the temptation.

 

“It's not working this time, Clint. How long have you had a daddy kink?”

 

“I don’t.”

 

“What do you call it when I'm taking care of you and calling you my sweet boy?”

 

“Relaxing.”

 

“How old are you?”

 

“Thirty-one.”

 

“I mean when we are doing that, how old are you?”

 

“Thirty-one.”

 

Bingo! Phil was pretty sure that was the key. But before he could put his theory to the test Clint stood up and began pacing behind him on the deck. 

 

“Phil I'm tired of this, we’re not getting any where. It's taking too long and if you don't fuck my brains out soon I'm going to explode. But I also know I won't get you off my back. So here it is. I'll lay it out for you once and if you don't get it then it's not my problem.”

 

That was actually not a bad idea at least at this point, and filed it away for later. He turned his body to face where Clint was walking back and forth. “Ok shoot.” 

 

“For starters.  That is useless.” Clint said as he pointed to the packet of papers on the deck. 

 

Phil had actually forgotten about them he only held on to them to make a point. 

 

“It doesn't apply to me. Those people pretend to actually be kids. They want their daddy to tell them not to drink beer or coffee. They want a bedtime. I don't. I want to sit down with a puzzle and my stuffy watching ‘Saw’ movies and drinking chocolate milk while my daddy still tells me I'm good boy. And maybe I'll snuggle closer during the scary parts. But sometimes I want a Tequila Sunrise while I watch ‘The Little Mermaid’. It's just  me , just what I like. I’ve always been this way. I don't call it ‘daddy kink’ or ‘age play’ as such. And when people do… they try to enforce a fucking 8:00 bed time, correct my language and put me in goddamn footy pajamas. I hate those.” 

 

“Okay.”

 

Clint stopped pacing and stared dumbly at Phil. 

 

“Uh, okay? As in you’re confused but you know I'm about to jump your bones so you give?”

 

“No such luck, I mean okay I understand. In fact I really like what you described.’

 

“Uh, you do?”

 

“Yes. Look it's common for people, for adults to use nostalgia as comfort. You’ve just taken it a bit further. I like the idea that you don't pretend to be a child, that I don't need to babysit you. I told you I don't do children so that would be uncomfortable. It was one of the reasons were doing this. I wanted to make sure that wasn't where we were going. I think you got it right, people didn't get it because they were trying to fit you in a neat little box with a label. But this wasn't my kink to start with. So I have no point of reference or expectations.”

 

Clint could hardly believe his ears (he was tempted to make sure his device was working ) a talk like this usually ended in a fight, not ‘oh I totally understood what words you vomited out and it’s fine’. 

 

“Now I know you're tired of this. And you're not the ‘talk it out type’ so if you want to stop here we can cover safe words and be done. But if you're up for it, I'd like to know more. Easy questions only just so I can better take care of you”

 

Clint smirked and shrugged. “Nah, I'm good. Arty is still after those June Bugs after all. Although at this point I think they're just screwing with her though.”

 

Clint couldn't help but be impressed by Phil. He had not only offered him an out. But said it was only to help him. He couldn't believe this guy. After grabbing a ball for the bug hunter and fresh coffee, he plopped down beside him. 

 

“Okay what's left.”

 

“Well I'll go out on a limb and assume you don't do diapers, bottles, other infant things.”

 

“Ew gross!”

 

“So being my sweet boy is just a way of relaxing and coping with stress?”

 

“Hmm yeah, pretty much.”

 

“So, no designated times, like an on off switch.”

 

“No like I said I mix it up. Sometimes all I need is a juice box with my steak but… you should know it's always been that way. Luckily lunchables and junk food aren't really that weird in high school or even college. I didn't really get them at home though. Hell after the interview with Jasper I had chicken nuggets and chocolate milk for dinner. See not daddy kink cause there was no daddy. Not really age play either cause I was watching the news and reading mail. Just depends on how much relaxing I want to do.”

 

Phil nodded in understanding as he threw Arty’s ball, in hopes of giving the insects a break. 

 

“You just like being vulnerable.”

 

“Uh, yeah I guess so.”

 

“Taken care of.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Good that's what I like about it.”

 

It seems Clint did have a point on how Phil had been doing fine, his assessment had pretty much been right that he did those things for comfort. 

 

“I know you said you don't act an age. But what age does your behavior usually resemble?”

 

“Fuck, I dunno. Like maybe, kind of vaguely, could be in the general vicinity of… 8 or 9.”

 

Phil let a soft chuckle rumble through his chest. At least he got an answer, even if the boy didn't want to commit to it.

 

“How do I know when you need me to be daddy, since there isn't a designated start and stop to a scene?”

 

“I dunno. How do you know now? Except the spanking there's not really a wrong time for it. I like it when you call me your sweet boy. Makes me feel… safe, like I don't have to worry about anything. There's never really a wrong time for that.”

 

Phil felt a rush of warmth run through him knowing Clint was opening up, just a little. 

 

“So, are daddy and sweet boy your preferred pet names then? Alright, we’ll just keep doing what we're doing. But, you mentioned no daddy during spankings, is there any other time daddy is a hard limit?”

 

Clint hummed in thought for a moment before adding “No I think that's… wait never yell at me as my daddy, super hard limit.”

 

“Well you seem to be a good boy when you’re my boy. So I don't think it will be an issue.” Crap.  My boy . It just slipped out because it felt so natural. 

 

“I just want to be a good boy for my daddy.”

 

If Clint noticed the slip, he never let on, just nuzzled his nose against Phil’s stubble roughened cheek. 

 

Well this was escalating rather quickly. He had better hurry. “Any bratting. If so how do I deal with it. You mentioned no punishment.”

 

“Eh...usually it's just me being me, a little shit. It's really only been an issue when my last daddy tried to put me in kid’s clothes or ban coffee and movies. But you said you wouldn't.”

 

The mention of Clint's last daddy irritated Phil almost to the point of anger. Not because Clint had brought him up but because his ” daddy ” had been either too selfish to take Clint's needs into account or too immature to understand them. Whatever the reason, it had hurt Clint and made him feel insecure and  that made him angry.

 

With a major effort, Phil kept his body relaxed and his voice calm. “Clint, it's times like those you use a safe word.”

 

“It was just daddy stuff. And it's not like I was gonna meltdown. It was just irritating.”

 

“Times like those should only be enjoyable, especially daddy times. I'd rather stop every half hour when you safe word and discuss what's wrong than have you upset, or even irritated during something that should be fun.”

 

“Yeah…I don't do that.”

 

“Do what? “

 

“Discuss, I suck at that. I don't do feelings either. Which is why I don't do relationships.”

 

He had tried that shit before and all that had brought him was grief with a side order of heartache. And no matter how much he thought he wanted that with Phil, he knew it would probably end up going the same way. Even if his pop did think Phil wanted to keep him they would just crash and burn eventually because he'd do something to fuck it up and he'd be left reeling again. No. It was best that the two of them fucked each other and had a good time while it lasted than for him to get too attached to Phil and have his heart broken again.

 

Phil's insides turned to ice at Clint's words. He’d mentioned that already - the “I don't do relationships” thing - but he'd still held onto the hope that this time it would be different. That  they would be different. But perhaps he would just have to accept it if he wanted to be in Clint's life at all. 

 

Phil kept his voice light to hide his true feelings. “So you can't manage -  yellow, do such and such again and I'll dump ice water on you?”

 

“Uh no, that I can do.”

 

“Perfect, that’s all I need. Now is there anything you'd like to add?”

 

“Um… yeah” This time it was Clint's turn to cup Phil's cheek and bring them nose to nose. “The next time you hand feed me like  that  you better be prepared to fuck me till I cry.”

 

“Don't worry, my sweet boy, I still have that dessert you earned.” Phil told told him, his voice having taken on a husky tone as he ghosted his lips over Clint's. “The sun won't be up for a couple more hours so we can  indulge a little more. After all, the day doesn't really start till sun rise. But I will personally be cooking you nutritious meals the rest of the day.”

 

Clint had no problem with that. Because that last time Phil did that he got pineapple braised pork chops with glazed carrots and fresh green bean salad. It was the best pork Clint had ever had. But he didn't contemplate that long because the heaviness in his lover’s voice went straight to his dick. He may have fallen asleep against his will, but that didn't mean it wasn't with blue balls. 

 

“So...uh can we try some of that stuff you talked about, your kinks.”

 

“Oh you can count on that. As soon as you give me your safe word.”

 

Clint's breathing had become shallow and labored very quickly. “Budapest… like the song.”

 

“Good job, honey. Mine is Blue Corvette”

 

As soon as the word left his lips they both scrambled inside with Artemis in tow.

 

***  

 

Phil instructed Clint to be a good boy and to get their girl cleaned up, with fresh bandages and put in her crate in his study. Phil told him he would meet him in his room when he was done. 

 

Clint scurried off as quickly a he could to complete his tasks. When he arrived the room was lit only by a small lamp and Phil was on his bed - which was now covered in a spare flat sheet. On Phil's night stand was a wooden tray with two plates of dessert, a bowl of fresh cut strawberries and a chocolate milk (which oddly enough was in a whiskey glass). Next to that was his stuffed armadillo Arnold. 

 

“Wow, daddy! You weren't kidding about dessert. I thought you were just gonna fuck me till I screamed.”

 

“I am. But I also don't joke around about my Italian sweets. Though I thought we'd get to that in a minute and start with a very special chocolate milk daddy made for you.” Phil told him as he pulled him down on to the bed, holding him close. 

 

Clint took the offered glass somewhat warily. “Special? Is it gonna give me trouble with my next drug test?” he joked. 

 

Phil chuckled warmly. He knew Clint didn't actually think he would give him drugs. “No honey. It has alcohol in it. Godiva liqueur actually and some others. Pepper likes these, that's why I have it. I hope it’s okay, that you’re in the mood. What you said outside gave me the idea.” 

 

Clint took a sip. He felt the light familiar burn of alcohol and reveled in the decadent rich chocolate flavor that exploded in his mouth. Pepper was a genius. And at that moment his favorite person on earth. It was like being a kid and grown up all at the same time. He just wished he had the words for it. 

 

“Mmm. Daddy it's perfect. Thank you.” Clint told Phil as he relaxed into his daddy's side.

 

“I'm so happy you like it.” Phil said as he peppered Clint's face with kisses. “Would it be okay if daddy got us more comfortable while you drank that?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Phil briefly got off the bed to quickly divest himself down to his black briefs. They were already bulging with his steadily growing erection. He reclaimed his place by his boy who was slowly nursing his cocktail. He slowly removed Clint's clothes while he switched between balancing the drink and sipping. Phil placed soft butterfly kisses along the lightly tanned skin as it became exposed, reveling in the soft noises his boy made. 

 

Soon he had Clint down to just his soft grey boxer briefs which he was filling out very quickly. 

 

“You’re sure taking your time to make me scream, daddy.” Clint commented as Phil nibbled and generously laved his earlobe”

 

“Yes, my sweet boy I am. Because we actually have it. But you  will scream, don't worry. Maybe even cry and beg.”

 

Clint's response was a soft low moan. 

 

“You said you wanted to try what I like. Would it be okay if I push you a bit? I just want to make you be patient.”

 

“Yes, daddy. I want that.”

 

“Good boy. Do you promise to listen to daddy?”

 

“I promise, daddy.”

 

“I love how good you are for me, sweetheart. Are you ready to eat?”

 

“Yes, daddy, I'm done.”

 

Phil took the empty glass from Clint's hands and set it back on the night stand. 

 

“You'll see what I’d like to do in a moment. Would you like Arnold? You won't need your hands from here on out.”

 

“Please, daddy.” Clint whispered as a surge of arousal shot through him when he thought of what that could mean. 

 

Once Clint had the stuffed creature in his grasp, he held it in his lap as he stroked its soft fur. Armadillos didn't actually have fur, but he didn't care. 

 

“Before we get started, are you gonna listen to daddy and do what he says?” Phil asked with Clint's face held gently but firmly in his hands as he looked him in the eyes. 

 

“Yes daddy. I promise. I'll be so good for you.”

 

“I know you will, my sweet boy. But what will you do if daddy does something you don't like, even if it just annoys you?”

 

“Use a color, or say Budapest.”

 

“Very good. You’re always my good boy, aren't you?

 

Clint couldn't help but preen under the praise. 

 

Phil brought their lips together in a slow, deep, sensual but very filthy kiss that allowed him to share in the taste of Clint's beverage. But it ended far too soon in Clint’s opinion (even though he was more than ready to move on to the filthier parts).

 

“Ready to eat, sweetheart?”

 

“Yes, daddy,” Clint answered. 

 

Clint was slightly surprised when Phil shooed him off the bed to finish undressing. Phil busied himself with rearranging Clint's pillows, tatty-corners to their original location, and putting the desserts on the bed which had Clint slightly confused. 

 

Clint stood before Phil completely naked with his eyes -currently a vibrant green - glazed over in lust and his cock half-hard. It was the most beautiful sight Phil had ever seen (granted he said that just about every time he saw his boy in a similar state of arousal). 

 

“Come here, and have a seat with daddy.”

 

Once settled Clint was able to recognize the confections. Tiramisu and cannolis. “Mmm I love tiramisu. Are you gonna feed me again, daddy?”

 

“Not exactly sweetheart. The tiramisu is for daddy and the cannolis are for you. But daddy thought his dessert could… could use some extra flavor this time. Now be a good boy and get comfortable on your hands and knees.”

 

Since Clint had promised to listen to his daddy he did as he was told. Phil helped guide him to put his ass in the air, knees apart. With his head and shoulders on his pillows, and his toy clutched tightly beside his head. It didn't take long for it all to finally make sense. 

 

Phil decided to revise his previous thought.  This was the most beautiful he'd ever seen his lover, ass and thighs on display with the muscles pulled taut.  He ran his hands over the firm globes in reverence, then pulling them apart to reveal the treasure he sought.  He gave the tight pink puckered hole a long languid lick. 

 

“Mmm yes this is just what it needs. You would like that, wouldn’t you?” Phil asked his sweet boy as he ran his thumb over Clint’s entrance as he spoke 

 

The sound that escaped escaped Clint's lips was not loud, but desperate. Was his daddy really going to eat the cake off of him,  there ? 

 

“Yes, daddy,” he breathed.

 

“Good boy.” 

 

Phil moved the plate of two large cannolis to right within his reach. “Here they are, whenever you’re ready.”

 

Phil dipped his fingers into his slice of cake, make sure to get both the thick, cheese-based cream and coffee and liqueur soaked cookies. Clint had been making the most adorable sounds, and he had this planned for so long he wanted to draw it out as long as he could.  

 

He spread the the cream and cake across both sides of Clint’s tight muscular ass. Phil took his time lapping and sucking off the sweet mix, trying to draw out more beautiful gasps and whimpers. He worked from the outside in covering every inch of the presented muscles till reached the puckered hole once more. 

 

“You’re not eating your dessert, sweetheart.”

 

Clint could only answer with a grunt, he was too frustrated to worry about eating - unless he was being fed. He briefly considered revising his stance on bratting. That is until he turned his head to face the wall and it all made sense again. Everything Phil was doing was deliberate. He had repositioned them so they could watch themselves in Phil's large mirror on the wall. Well  damn ! That changed everything. 

 

Clint saw, as much as felt Phil drop a large glob of the creamy Italian cake right over his asshole. And when he watched Phil's head dip, and felt his tongue glide over his entrance - gathering the sweetened cream along the way - once more he nearly jumped out of his skin despite the visual warning. When he heard Phil's accompanying groan he couldn’t stop the low, needy whine that passed his lips. 

 

As Phil lapped at his hole, Clint pressed the nose of his stuffed friend to his mouth and clamped it in his teeth before realized he had a better (tastier) option waiting on the other side of him. 

Phil couldn't get enough. While he once thought nothing could beat a slice of fresh tiramisu, the natural favor of his boy’s ass was a definite improvement. It gave an almost musky saltiness to the sweet cream, a perfect complement to it. The feel was another aspect that drove the older man crazy. He would pause periodically with his tongue over the Clint's hole just to feel it clench and flutter. Phil wished he could do this all day (maybe one day he would try) but he was just too turned on by Clint responses and…fuck! 

 

When Phil lifted his head to add more cake to his target, he caught a glimpse of the mirror he had strategically placed himself in front of. Oh. Fuck. 

 

Clint had a cannoli grasped in his hand, the one with a chocolate covered shell. He eagerly lapped at the cream in opening. It was one of the most erotic scenes Phil had ever seen. Clint's pink tongue would peak out to gather the thick sweet substance before retreating back into his mouth. 

 

Phil shifted their positions a bit so he could watch Clint while still enjoying his own dessert. Phil moaned deep in his chest against the crevasse of Clint’s ass, when saw Clint's head bobbing over the cannoli in an attempt to suck the chocolate coating from the shell. This earned an equally filthy moan from his lover. 

 

“That's it, sweet boy. I bought that specially, just for you. I want you to enjoy every...last...drop.”

 

That earned Phil a dirty nonverbal response that he was quite happy with. That accomplished he set back to work exploring the tight asshole - not that he planned to let it stay that way much longer. Once had gotten through his latest addition of creamy cake he pressed his tongue to the clenched hole, reveling in the gentle flutter until it relaxed enough to grant him entrance. 

 

Phil slowly slid his tongue inside the opening, gently wiggling it and sliding it back forth. He was grateful for his firm grip on the boy’s hips when they thrust forward, of their own volition. Phil was truly enjoying himself, but when he saw Clint had similar ideas, he knew it was time for a change of plans. 

 

Clint had taken the cream off the opening and sucked the chocolate from the shell. But he needed more. He knew if he didn't keep himself busy he would explode in sexual frustration. He slipped his tongue inside the crispy cookie tunnel, swirling it around in search of more cream before pulling it out to swallow and start again. Clint's body shuttered when he felt Phil groan against his ass. 

 

Phil pulled away, taking only a brief second to admire the greasy shine on Clint's firm buttocks, before flipping the boy without warning. 

 

Clint's lips were smeared with chocolate and white cream. 

 

“Daddy,” fell from from Clint's lips in quiet whisper. 

 

“Oh my sweet boy, look how dirty you are. It's ok, daddy will get you cleaned up,” was all the warning Phil have before capturing Clint's mouth in a heated filthy kiss, making sure to clean the sugary substances up in the process. When they broke they were both panting and their cocks hard and heavy with need. 

 

“Please daddy, fuck me. I need you inside me right now.” Clint begged so sweetly. 

 

How do you say no to that? 

 

“Okay sweetheart, but first daddy has rules.”

 

Clint's response was to purse his lips in an adorable pout, before nodding reluctantly. He had promised to listen to daddy afterall. 

 

“Good boy. First no more begging, even though daddy loves it, I just can't say no to you, and that would spoil our fun.”

 

Clint bit his lip and nodded once more.

 

“Perfect. Now, if daddy told you not to come till he said, would that be okay?”

 

Clint couldn't fight the little whimper as he nodded vigorously. 

 

“Good boy. Now, would you like daddy to tie you up with his tie. I know you asked about that earlier. And I always want to give you want.”

 

“Please, daddy.”

 

Phil set to work as quickly but efficiently as he could. He grabbed a cheap old grey tie, condoms and lube before returning to Clint's side where he was sucking his knuckles and his hips rocked into the air in hopes of relieving some discomfort. 

 

He had Clint hold his wrists together out in front of them then wrapped the tie around them a few times before loosely tying it off. He was confident Clint could quickly extricate himself if need be, but not without at least a little effort. After Clint agreed it was tied just right Phil tucked his boy’s hands behind his head. Clint was already a needy, squirming, whimpering mess. 

 

Phil set about preparing him quickly, but still thoroughly. Once he’d worked two fingers inside his sweet boy he took the opportunity to admire his handy work. Fuck! He looked gorgeous. Absolutely beautiful.

 

Clint was already flushed and covered in a light sheen of sweat, his cock was full and heavy, resting on his sculpted abs leaking drips of precome as his hips rocked into Phil's hand. However what Phil noticed most was the constant movement of his mouth. He would alternate between a sucking motion and biting his lips. Well he could help with that. 

 

“My, what a greedy mouth you have, you always need something in it. But you look so pretty, and you're being so good, I guess I could give you a reward.”

 

“Yes, daddy, please. Wanna be good for you.”

 

“You’re always good for me honey.” Phil assured him as he used the fingers of his unoccupied hand to drop a dollop of his coffee flavored cake into the boy’s mouth. There was still a corner left and Phil decided he would enjoy it best this way. 

 

Clint twisted his body and released one of his trademark low indecent moans that Phil had quickly come to love. Clint immediately wrapped his tongue around the digits trying get every drop off cream possible. They repeated this several times till the cake was finally gone and Clint was thoroughly stretched. 

 

Once fully seated Phil groaned at the feeling. “Now remember sweetheart, you’re going to be a good boy for daddy, and not come till he says. And no begging. Right?”

 

“Yes, daddy. I'll be good, I promise.”

 

Phil quickly set a steady pace as he basked in the beauty of the man beneath him, presently eating (or rather tongue fucking) a cannoli from his hands. He was enraptured by the beautiful straining muscles and veins of Clint's arms, the breathless gasps and whimpers, even the way he held his stuffed toy close in his restrained arm. 

 

This time Clint ate the shell after his pink greedy tongue hollowed it out then spent far longer than necessary cleaning his lover’s fingers of the residual cream. 

 

“You know sweetheart, you never look prettier than when I'm fucking you with my cock. This is the best that tie has ever looked too.” Phil whispered breathlessly in Clint's ear, his voice deep and gravelly as he speeded up to an unrelenting pace, making sure to support himself upright on his arms to get the right angle to hit that one sweet spot inside his boy that would make him… 

 

The response he got was not the one he was expecting. Well… the shout of surprise was exactly what he was expecting and the filthy moan that followed was just what Phil liked to hear. No, what caught Phil off guard was how Clint lifted his upper body of the mattress, with his hands still trapped behind his head, and latched onto Phil's nipple. 

 

While Phil liked his nipples played with as much as the next guy but Clint wasn't just playing, he was… nursing. His suckling was hard and constant. He was a man on a mission it seemed. Phil couldn't stop the deep groan as he caught glimpses of his eager boy. Phil was close but judging by how loud Clint's whimpering was getting around Phil's nipples, he was closer. 

 

“Not yet. Soon, but not yet.” Phil panted harshly into Clint’s ear. 

Clint pulled his head away briefly to look Phil dead in the eye. Clint's hair was once more sticking to his forehead and every which way, beads of sweat were gathered on his temples, his eyes were glazed over in lust. 

 

“Really, is that all you got?”

 

Well if that's how his boy wanted to play it, Phil was more than happy to oblige. Phil guided Clint back down and placed a wedge of strawberry in his boy’s mouth. He adjusted his angle, gripped Clint's hips firm enough to hold him but not so as to leave bruises, and set a ruthless place. As Phil hit his lover's prostate with each thrust, Clint writhed and moaned around the berry in his mouth. 

 

Soon the moans evolved into breathless gasps and desperate whimpers as Clint's cock leaked a steady stream of precome all over his abs. 

 

Phil was so close, right on the edge. All it took was one pleading look full of pleasure from his sweet boy’s beautiful eyes and he felt his muscles begin to contract and spasm with the force of the orgasm. He barely managed to gasp “now” to let his sweet boy have his final reward. Phil decided in that moment that watching Clint writhe and whimper while striping their bellies in white, made his own orgasm all the better.

 

A short time later after a quick clean up, Phil finally had Clint in his arms, snuggled beneath his plush silver and black comforter. The sun was only just starting to rise, but that was not going to stop him from indulging in a nap with his lover, they had earned it after all. 

 

He could feel Clint's breath on his neck where his head was tucked and his calloused fingers gripped at his back. He could even feel Clint's toes dancing against his own.  He decided he could stay like this all day or at least till their next meal time. Except, their phones had other ideas. 

 

It started with Clint receiving a text, then another, and another, till he just couldn't ignore it anymore. But apparently Phil's phone was highly impressionable. The moment Clint reached for his phone, the Imperial March drifted through the speakers of his own. 

 

Phil froze. On one hand, that was not a call that should be ignored (he once even took his friend’s call while escorting a Senator through an angry mob). But on the other he was presently in bed and very naked with the man’s son. Fuck! 

 

“It's your Father.” Phil told Clint quickly before rolling out of bed and heading to the bathroom to answer the call and prayed he came out of it alive (or at least with enough time to put pants on).

 

“Marcus, the sun is barely up and I took today off, so please get to the point,” Phil told his friend blandly while resisting to mention the firm young body waiting for him in his bed. 

 

“If you insist, Cheese. How did last night go?”

 

“Well as I now have a new dog, you tell me.”

 

“Well shit, Cheese, at least this way I know that soft belly of yours is finally gonna disappear. You're gonna have to do some serious walking with that little girl instead of lazin’ around on your lardy ass when you've got some down time like you do now. She might even help you get laid again!” 

 

“Says the man who hasn't exercised since we were in the Rangers.” He didn't rise to the bait of  getting laid, not when he was fucking his kid on a regular and. 

 

“Hell, son! I don't need a canine companion to keep this body in peak condition. I can get my exercise in more  satisfying ways.”

 

“Shit, Marcus! Too early for that crap!”

 

“Speaking of crap, where is the the little shit now?”

 

Phil froze. If Marcus continued down this line of questioning, he was sure he would have to leave the country and change his name to Pablo Jimenez because lying to this man was a slippery slope. But maybe… maybe he didn't have to. 

 

“He’s here.”

 

“There. With you.” Marcus tone was somewhere between disbelief and suspicion. 

 

Phil took a deep silent breath, there was no going back now. 

 

“Yes. He was so upset at the idea of taking her to a shelter I told him I would adopt her if he helped me get set up. So we were gonna work on crate training and puppy proofing.”

 

“So what? He slept in the nerd palace you call a guest room? 

 

“No, on the couch.”

 

“You put my son on your couch?”

 

“Yes but only because I would have had to sweep if he slept on the floor.”

 

“Ha! Good to hear it, Cheese. Now this actually works perfect for this idea I had.”

 

When Phil returned to the room after his call he found Clint right where he left him only now he sat rigid with a heavy frown pulling at his brow and his phone forgotten in his lap. 

 

“Clint what…”

 

“Don't call him that.” Clint interrupted. 

 

“What are you talking about? Don't call who what?” Phil asked in confusion as he sat beside his obviously distressed lover. 

 

“My pop, Marcus. You called him my father. He's not. So don't call him that. Ever. Again.” Clint ground out between gritted teeth. 

 

Phil couldn't believe his ears. He knew Clint could be a brat a prankster and often a down right little shit but he never took him for being this… ungrateful. “How can you say such a thing, Clint? After all the man has done for you?”

 

“Exactly, he's not an asshole. He… Ya know what, forget it.” Clint huffed as he made a move to get out of bed. 

 

Phil immediately reached for Clint's arm to stop him. Now he understood and it all made complete sense. Clint associated the word ‘father’ with the abuse dealt out by his biological father. Marcus was an entirely different man therefore required a different title. Phil was also willing to bet Clint reserved ‘daddy’ for his sexual partners. Boy did Phil feel like a heal now. 

 

“Clint, please don't go. I get it now. I didn't realize I'm sorry. I'm so sorry,” Phil pleaded. He just hoped his big mouth didn't ruin their weekend. 

 

Clint paused and turned to look at Phil. 

 

“You do?” he asked in genuine shock. 

 

“Yes I do. Each title has very deep and specific meaning to you. I didn't mean to upset you, I just didn't know. Please stay.”

 

Clint was shocked. This should have been a huge fight because he couldn't just explain it to Phil only it wasn't. Phil already understood and was even apologizing. Clint managed to recover just enough to stumble through a pathetic response.

 

“Um, okay. Thanks.”

 

Phil gathered his sweet boy into his arms and kissed him slow and gentle as if to seal his apology. 

 

“So uh, you said my pop called?” Clint asked after they eventually broke apart. 

 

“Oh yes. It seems he wants you better acquainted with the city, but he's going out of town again, a cabin in Alaska I think he said. Anyway way he asked me to show you around. So, uh, how does next weekend sound? I just don't want to leave Arty alone just yet.”

 

Clint sighed internally. If his pop ever did find out about them, Clint would remind him how often it was his fault they spent time together. 

 

“Yeah sure sounds fine. We should start training her today. I'll be busy tomorrow anyway.”

 

“Oh, you are?”

 

“Yeah. The texts were from Steve. I'm gonna meet him tomorrow to go truck shopping then get Lucky. Works out perfect huh?”

 

Phil felt his heart hit his stomach.  His  beautiful boy was spending the day with Steve and there was nothing he could do about. 

 

“Yes absolutely perfect.” he lied. Well, on the bright side, at least he had the rest of the day to freshen up his hickey. 

  
  



	7. Of Ferrets and First dates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve confessed to Clint why he really left Montana. And Clint has his first "not-a-date" with Phil. Or is it a date?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this has taken so long to get up we've run in to writting block issues but I hope it's not too much longer before another chapter is up. Thanks so much to all who have left feed back and have stuck with us. 
> 
> Waring: this chapter does contain a "ghost story" that is based on real personal accounts. The stairs in the woods are very real. If you want a link to the origami story let me know and I'll try to find it. If you don't want to read the scary bits leave us a message in the reviews and I'll tell you when to skip.
> 
> Edit: link to the true account of stairs in the woods
> 
> http://thepurpletie797.tumblr.com/post/142373133819/audio-about-real-search-and-rescue-stories

Daddy 3-5

 

Clint flew off his bike and made it to the door of the diner with not a minute to spare. It was bad enough he had already rescheduled with Steve once last week, not to mention he needed to get Lucky, he didn't need to make things worse by being late. 

 

Clint was finally going to get the truck he had been wanting, needing really. A friend of Sam’s just so happened to be selling a Ford F-150. Steve was now living in the neighborhood the truck was in, so offered to come with. It was kinda their thing really. Before the men even started dating Steve had been there when he bought his Harley. They even picked out an ATV together (which Steve kept). That was what had Clint meeting Steve for lunch at The House of Pies on Westheimer.

 

As soon as Clint walked through the door he noted the dingy, dated and very small interior and a giant display case full of every pie or cake imaginable. It didn't take a genius to figure out that probably meant he shouldn't leave without dessert. He made his way past the single row of tables to the very last one where Steve sat with a coffee waiting for him complete with cream and sugar. 

 

Most of the meal was spent enjoying classic diner fare and companionable chatter, completely ignoring any awkwardness of their last interaction. It was nice, yet notably impersonal. It was when two slices of Turtle cheesecake arrived at their table along with refills of coffee that things became a bit less neutral .

 

The cheesecake looked normal enough. It was cake, made with cream cheese, and judging by the dense texture it was New York Style Clint noted as he inspected the slice with the tines of his fork. It was topped in chocolate, caramel and pecans  which was a bonus. But the first bite told him this was anything but the generic sub par cheese cake he'd been getting so far in Texas. The moment the custard filling hit his tongue he released an almost indecent moan that he had previously reserved only for food that came accompanied by his lover's fingers. 

 

“Oh. My. Godzilla, Steve. Where on earth did you hear about this place? The food was ok, but this… fulfills my orgasm quota for the day.” Clint hummed immediately upon swallowing. 

 

Steve rolled his eyes as he enjoyed a bite of his own but was unable to hide his amusement as a small smile played at the corners of his lips. 

 

“Everyone, really. It seems like all anyone's done since I got here is feed me,” Steve told him with a light chuckle. 

 

With a mouthful of cheesecake all Clint could do was smile and hum in acknowledgement. Clint knew exactly what he was talking about. Well over a year after coming to Texas people were still bringing him food, taking him out, or at least making sure he knew where to eat. If he was sent to a landmark or attraction he was very carefully instructed where to get food near by. Not to mention constantly being handed local craft beers and microbrews. Even Lucky had been given locally made dog treats. But suddenly a thought occurred to him. 

 

“Hey, Steve what brought you to Texas anyway?” Clint inquired before washing his confection down with a sip of warm coffee. 

 

“Pay is better.” Steve’s body was tense and rigid, his words were clipped and his eyes were far more focused on his coffee than they should be. It was a complete one eighty from relaxed cheerful man moments before. 

 

That was not Steve which meant something very serious had happened. The thing was Steve loved being a Ranger. Sure Clint enjoyed his work, but mostly it was because it was where he felt the most useful at the time. But Steve...Steve  truly loved his work. It was his passion, and truthfully probably why Clint fell for him in the first place. 

 

The man had a passion for animals, more specifically animal conservation. After leaving the military, he used the GI bill to return to his home in Brooklyn and worked hard for a Fish and Wildlife management degree with a focus on herpetology. Yup Steve liked snakes. He also liked sharks. And Clint almost died when he came home to find Steve hand feeding a 7 legged tarantula he had rescued, on his kitchen table. 

 

And if you ever made the mistake of asking why he was so passionate, you were often lectured for nearly an hour on how incredible these animals were (could be any creature really). Someone like that did not leave his animals to start protecting humans simply for better pay. 

 

Clint narrowed his eyes over the rim of his mug. “Oh yeah, and how do the black footed fur balls feel about that?”

 

The look of guilt that washed over Steve's features was immediate and painful. Although considering what Clint knew he had left behind in Montana, he couldn't really find it in himself to sympathise at that moment. 

 

Despite his love for all creatures, especially those sorely misunderstood, Steve had actually been brought to the park to help in Conservation efforts of the black footed ferret. They were on the verge of extinction even after nearly fifty years of bulking the numbers up from the tiny handful left in the ‘70s to under a thousand nationwide present day. Their park had one of the colonies which needed someone make notes on its development and generally keep an eye on it. Only Steve took that one step further. 

 

Steve said it wasn't enough, that if they ever wanted the population flourish it would take  everybody  so that meant educating the public on the furry woodland creature with the heart of a lion. 

 

Steve had taken it upon himself to create a program for the park's education center and even went schools to teach children how they could help while also educating them on the domestic ferret . Clint was often sent with Steve when he wasn't needed elsewhere as his “ferret-wrangling” assistant. Yup that’s what Steve called him. 

 

Those programs were where Clint fell head over heels for the gorgeous blonde. It was almost like something out of a fairy tale really. He would sit in the back as Steve gave the children and parents an entertaining presentation on the black footed ferret; the children would fall madly in love with the small but strong, willful creatures, and become outraged at the threat to their existence. Steve would then explain that because humans were killing Prairie dogs, thinking they are pests, the wild ferrets were losing their food and homes. 

 

He explained that pet ferrets had been domesticated for hunting almost as long as cats have been pets. So when people tried to release their pet ferrets into the wild that they could no longer care for they would fight the wild ones for food and often give them diseases they weren't used to. This is why the Black footed ferret was dying at an alarming rate.

 

Then, his favorite part, Steve would bring out his own pet ferrets. To combat the inevitable ‘oh how cute, mom I want one’ he gave a detailed explanation of how much work it entailed in caring for them. That it was many the same tasks and care needed for a human toddler. 

 

Seeing Steve on one knee with a hyperactive ball of fur, very gently explaining conservation to children, made his heart melt. Watching the tall, muscular beauty on the floor trying to catch a darting blur of fur turned his insides to Jell-O. But the day his tiny undersized female kit snuck behind Clint and pickpocketed his keys and wallet only to hide them under a library bookshelf, very proudly, changed everything. Clint stared at the tiny baby Sable ferret guarding her treasure then to Steve who was failing to contain his laughter.

 

“Looks like you're buying me dinner, and driving..  I might have to sleep over too.”

 

Steve’s raised one brow briefly before a smug smile spread across his lips. “Great, it's a date.”

 

That would turn out to be the start of their relationship. 

 

It just didn't make sense that  that  guy could just leave. 

 

“I just… I couldn't do it any more.” 

 

But it only took one look into Steve's eyes. They were the eyes of someone who had seen too many of the wrong things. Clint's stomach dropped.

 

“What happened? Did you...?”

 

Steve's painted face grew tight and angry. “Don't. Don't you say it. You know we don't talk about it. Just. Don't.”

 

Clint was right. But so was Steve. You didn't talk about those things. They were things Clint knew he had never even told Bucky. Because not even Bucky could understand if he even believed him. Sure horror stories sounded cool, but  no one  will  ever believe you if said you lived one. 

 

Clint remembered the first time he saw the stairs. He wish he didn't. But he could never forget. He had gone on his first search and rescue mission in Colorado, a little boy had wandered off and they had gone nearly 40 miles into the forest when there was a set of stairs. Like if you had cut them out of your house and just plopped them in the middle of the woods. Just as clean and new looking too. 

 

When he asked his team mates about them no one would answer. When he asked his supervisor about them all he was told was to never ever  ever,  set a foot on any stairs he found in the woods. Ever. And there were other stairs. They were never in the same spot twice and they never looked the same. Everyone knew about them but no one ever talked about them. 

 

He did go up a set once. He couldn't resist. He had to know. He went up and while nothing technically happened when he got back to camp without having found the lost child he was told by the same supervisor that now they would never find her because he went up the stairs. They never found her. 

 

But that wasn't the only strange thing that happened. Once when looking for a couple of lost sisters they did find one but she told them they would never find her sister because the ‘bear man’ bought her sister for some berries. She then handed Clint a handful of the only edible berry that was found in that area. They never found the sister. 

 

Then there where the frozen bodies found in the summer. And a baby found inside the trunk of a tree. Not the hollow of a tree. No, it was more like the trunk grew around the body. Only both the body and breast milk found in the baby’s stomach were fresh. Something was out there. No one knew what. But there was  something.  No wonder Steve left. He probably witnessed something he couldn't un-see. 

 

*****

 

After lunch they did get the truck then went back to Steve's duplex in the Village to get Lucky.

 

“So how was Lucky? Did he stay on his best behavior?” Clint asked as they walked to the front door. 

 

“Oh yeah. It was great seeing him again. He was actually a big help with the little fuzz-butts. I forgot what a great ferret herder he was.”

 

When they opened the door they were greeted by a small herd of innocent looking ferrets and Lucky. 

 

“Looks like he makes a good partner in crime for them too.” Clint chuckled. 

 

“Eww Dugan why are you covered in peanut butter?” Steve asked his ferret as he picked up the largest male then turned to Clint. “Mind staying a bit? I could use Lucky’s help with bath time. 

 

Clint did stay and even helped out with the bathing. While some ferrets had a blast swimming in the half-full tub; the rest had to be caught by Clint or Lucky and tossed back in as they popped out. By the end the two men were soaked sitting on the living room floor laughing at all the antics, while lucky supervised the little critters drying themselves off.

 

This was the first time in years Clint had noticed just how beautiful Steve was when he let go. Of course he was beautiful. He was practically a Greek god brought to life. But this was a different kind of beauty. This type of beauty could only be achieved by wet hair in disarray, snorting when he laughed, soap suds on his nose and the drenched white undershirt didn't hurt either. Clint felt his heart clench. He just wasn't sure if it was because of Steve or… 

 

He was so caught up in his own thoughts he didn't even realised they had both stopped laughing till he felt Steve's hand on his cheek where his thumb gently caressed his cheekbone. Steve’s eyes were warm and full of… longing? What the hell was going on?

 

“Steve, what?”

 

Steve smiled gently. “I've missed this. You were always the best at making me laugh. And you always had the brightest smile. I miss seeing it every every day.”

 

Clint was absolutely dumbfounded. He was sure Steve had been glad to get rid of him and the trouble he caused. Unless… unless keeping him wasn't what Steve was planning. 

 

“That's uh, very sweet. But um well… I'm pretty sure sleeping with your ex is one of those universally bad ideas that even I know about.”

 

Despite Clint's protests Steve just kept smiling and caressing his cheek, and… was he… getting closer?

 

“You’re right. But… what if we...weren't exes any more. Wait just hear me out. I know you don't communicate well but you can change. We’ll work on it in small baby steps. I can be patient with you. I promise. Besides, the biggest issue was the whole Bucky thing. But you said you understood and you even apologized. So we're fine there. We've both grown so much it will be great this time. You'll see.”

 

Any chance Clint had to process what he’d just heard was cut short by Steve’s lips pressed to his in a brief tender kiss. Only one thought passed through Clint's brain in that moment. Maybe… 

 

When Steve pulled away he whispered the one thing into Clint's ear that would ensure no further thought on the matter was needed. 

 

“What do you say? You want to come home to daddy again?”

 

No. He was wrong. Clint only had one daddy and be was at home with  their new puppy. Clint's hand shot up to push Steve away. But instead of telling Steve all this all he managed was, “I don't… I don't think so Steve. I'm not looking for anything right now.”

 

Steve looked momentarily shocked then thoughtful. He slowly brought his hand up to Clint shirt and pulled the collar down with one finger just as he had at the crawfish boil. 

 

“Oh.”

 

Oh? What did Steve mean by that? 

 

“Are you sure the reason you're not looking isn't because you've already found someone.”

 

“What? No! Look I told you I don't do relationships anymore.” 

 

Steve took a deep breath. “Clint that hickey looks more like you got hit with a baseball than a love bite. There is no way there's not something there.”

 

“I mean yeah he’s… I guess you could say he's special”

 

“But he's still your deep dark secret. Why?”

 

“Just leave it alone, Rogers,” called Bucky in a firm tone from the kitchen. 

 

Clint was surprised they never heard him come in. But it wasn't as surprising as Bucky taking his side. 

 

Steve frowned and focused his attention on Bucky. “Why?”

 

Barnes just shook his head. “They're fine. Nothing good will come of you sticking your nose in this.”

 

“Wait, you know who it is?” Steve asked astonished. 

 

Bucky sighed and leaned his hip against the counter and plucked an apple from the fruit bowl. “Yeah I do. So trust me, and don't worry about it. Clint's being taken care of.”

 

Steve huffed a sigh of defeat. “If you say so. Let me just put the fuzz balls away, then I'll dry off lucky for you Clint.” And with that Steve left with his furry army. 

 

Clint turned to where Bucky munched away on his apple completely carefree as if he didn't just save Clint from awkwardly telling his ex just who he was fucking. “What the hell was that?” Clint asked completely bewildered. 

 

Bucky glanced at him with a bored look on his face. “Oh, I'm sorry, did you want to tell Steve you're dating our boss? Who might I add is your adoptive father's  best friend. ”

 

Clint first felt relief that it did seem Bucky would protect his secret but it was quickly beaten down by a feeling of outrage and fear. 

 

“How the hell do you know, and why do you care?” Clint asked Bucky through gritted teeth as he leaned across the counter island that divided the kitchen from the living room 

 

Bucky sighed and set his half eaten apple on the counter between them before looking at the sniper with a gentle expression Clint had never seen on the other man before. 

 

“Because, Coulson has been different these past few months. He comes in to work on time or fifteen minutes late, instead of an hour early. He actually eats lunch even if he does just order in and most mornings he eats breakfast at his desk. For the first time in the five years I've been working for him he takes days off regularly and actually keeps them. But most of all he's just… relaxed, happier, and more himself than I've seen in a long time. Which has been better for the company. Now that he doesn't hover over our shoulders we can finally do what he's paying us for.”

 

Clint was in shock. Bucky had to be mistaken. There was no way he was responsible for those changes in Phil. Just no way. 

 

“Okay well, what makes you think  we’re  together. It could be anyone.”

 

Bucky scoffed. “Because the last time I saw him like this was right after  someone broke in through the vents over a year ago. Not that it lasted long, but that is a pretty big giveaway. Besides, I know what your hickeys look like. I've certainly seen them on Steve enough.”

 

That was when the fear began to take over. If Bucky knew then who else did too? What if someone said something? Apparently his fear was transparent. 

 

“Relax not many people know about the break in. Just me, Hill, and Stark. And if Stark figured it out the cat would have been out of the bag five minutes later. Besides we all have a vested interest in keeping this quiet. Not to mention we all just like seeing him happy for once. If anyone deserves it, it's that man.”

 

Well that actually made sense. “So you're not doing this for me. You're doing this for Phil.” It was a statement not a question but Bucky nodded all the same. Clint actually found comfort in this. 

 

Just as Clint turned to look for Steve and Lucky, a thought occurred to him and he spun around on his heels to face Bucky eating a snack once more. “We’re not dating you know. It's just sex.”

 

Bucky rolled his eyes and set his fruit down once more. “Do you have conversation? Not just how's the weather but long talks.”

 

“Well yeah, but…”

 

“Do you text or call just to see how the other is doing?”

 

“Sure we do, but…”

 

“Do you do things together that don't involve sex?”

 

“I guess sometimes we do, but…”

 

“If you need help would he come?”

 

“I…  I don't know. Maybe if it wasn't a big deal.”

 

Bucky scoffed. “I bet he's the one who adopted that pup you found.” he speculated with a pointed look in Clint's direction. 

 

Clint gulped. “Well yeah he did but…”

 

Bucky sighed and leaned on the counter by his elbows. “But nothin’ pal. You’re dating. Don't know why you have your panties in a bunch over it it's not like dating comes with a big commitment.”

 

“So if that's dating what the hell makes it different from a relationship.”

 

Bucky sighed wistfully. “When that's the only person who could possibly fill those roles and the only one you want to.” And with that Bucky tossed his apple in the bin, grabbed his gym bag and headed out the door leaving a very dumbfounded Clint; because damn, he just might be right about the dating thing. 

 

*****

 

The following Saturday was the day of their first outing. And it was  not  a date. Afterall, Fury had asked Phil to take him out. Clint met Phil at his place. After securing Arty in her kennel, and fighting the temptation of the world's saddest puppy face, they took off in Phil's SUV. Not that Clint knew where they were going. All he knew (or concluded actually) was they were headed towards downtown. 

 

Phil tried to focus on the task at hand as he kept pace with traffic but was unable to keep his mind from drifting to his passenger and what the afternoon would bring. 

 

He had the entire weekend planned for them. It seemed like a lot but it was rare for them to have a weekend off together and he needed to make the most of it. They would start that afternoon with a tour at the Saint Arnold brewing company, spend the evening at the Kemah Boardwalk and stop for dinner with live music at T-bone Tom’s Steakhouse. Phil briefly wondered if Clint would recognize it from it features on the food channel. The following day would be spent at the Johnson Space Center, NASA’s visitor center. 

 

Some of what he had mapped out had been insisted upon by Marcus but the rest was carefully chosen by himself. And if today was one of the few days that the local grilled cheese truck would be outside the Brewery well, that was a complete coincidence. 

 

As it turned out Phil had been right on the mark with the beer tour. Clint had walked through the facility in awe, much like a child in a candy factory (now that was a thought). When they got to the tasting Phil loved watching Clint's reaction to each beer. Some he enjoyed and a pleased smile would curl his lips but others, mostly the bitter I.P.A, would make him look like he swallowed a lemon. It was adorable. 

 

When they found the grilled cheese truck, The Golden Grill, outside the brewery Clint’s face had lit up like a Christmas tree. Phil thought it was the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen. Clint dug into his pizza grilled cheese with enthusiasm and gusto. And Phil couldn't help but neglect his own carnitas grilled cheese to watch in awe. Oh no. He was in trouble. Well at least he hadn't fallen in love with the boy. 

 

From there they went to the Kemah Boardwalk. It was on the Bay in Kemah right by seabrook so it wasn't far from their homes. The Boardwalk was lined with various game booths and rides. But the one booth that immediately had Clint dragging him towards was face painting. He observed Clint as he looked at all the designs in excitement and watched the children in line get painted. 

 

“Did you get your face painted often as a child?” Phil asked but quickly regretted it when Clint's happy expression crumbled. 

 

“No. My father never did anything fun with us, and the few times pop took me to the circus he said I was too old, that it was for little kids.”

 

Phil's heart broke for his lover. No wonder Clint was so curious about the face painting. He had missed out on one of the core experiences of childhood. Well he would just have to fix that. He leaned into Clint’s side and whispered in his boy's ear. “I'll get one if you do. I really like the stormtrooper.”

 

Clint couldn't believe his ears. Could they really get their face painted? Wouldn't it be weird? But if Phil was willing to do it with him… Clint bit his lip and glanced at the line. Most of the adults had young children and there were some teens but at the end were two women about his age with no children. That did it. Without a word he grabbed Phil's hand and dragged him into the line. 

 

Once their turn came Phil did get the stormtrooper on his cheek and Clint got the batman mask and he couldn't have been more thrilled. 

 

Phil didn't care how ridiculous he felt, Clint's bright smile made it all worth it. And their evening had barely even started. 

 

“So… where to next, my dear?” 

 

Clint was nearly bouncing out of his skin with excitement “Foot tall margaritas and funnel cake!”

 

Phil could only smile at Clint's enthusiasm and excitement “Anything you want, but remember to save room for dinner.” And he meant it. He would give Clint anything he wanted. Oh boy! He seriously might be in trouble. 

 

They stayed far later than either of them anticipated. Clint had insisted they ride every ride after Clint had won Phil a purple dragon at the shooting booth. The sun had just set as they reached the top of the ferris wheel. Although the stars weren’t visible against the lights of the board walk Clint’s smile shone bright enough to light the whole sky. He found so much enjoyment in all the little things in life. That's what Phil loved most about him. Wait. Loved? He didn't… did he? Yes he did. Crap he was in trouble. That was when he realised Clint was speaking. 

 

“I'm sorry sweetheart, what was that?”

 

“I said you're the best daddy ever.” Clint leaned forward and captured Phil's lips in a tender kiss.

 

It was all painfully cliché and terribly perfect. Phil wondered what dinner held for them. 

 

“Oh man! This place was on the food network?!” Clint exclaimed as he opened his menu at T-bone Tom's right next to the Boardwalk. 

 

Phil hugged his purple and gold toy dragon to his side tightly. He had to be sure Artemis never got her tiny teeth in this one. It was his new favorite possession even if he didn't have the interest in stuffed toys that Clint did. This one was special. 

 

They had walked from the Boardwalk to the restaurant because the weather was so nice. Since many others had the same idea it wasn't an unusual sight to see a grown man with souvenir Margarita glasses and a toy. Clint was already wearing his air brush t-shirt that said “you can't ban these guns” in purple and blue. 

 

That night Phil held Clint as close as he could without actually climbing inside the other man's skin as he thrust deep and hard inside Clint’s warm welcoming body. He savored every little plea for ‘daddy’ and every gasp whine and moan that left his boy’s lips. Moments like those were the only way he could truly and safely express how he felt about the other man. 

 

*****

 

Clint was nearly vibrating out of his skin the next morning from excitement. Phil had said they were going to Space Center Houston that day. He also knew Phil had used some connections to plan the day. After all NASA was one of S.H.I.E.L.D’s biggest contracts. 

 

Clint also decided it would be a good day to let Lucky work and somehow Lucky knew it. He brought his working harness to Clint before he even rolled out of bed. He wouldn't let it go even when Clint let him and Arty out into the yard. 

 

Clint had popped out of bed not long after and started the coffee pot for Phil; he wanted to be there the minute the gates opened. Phil said they would need all day to experience it so Clint didn't want to waste a minute of time. While the coffee percolated he set to work on pancakes, eggs and sausage for breakfast. Phil had been amazing to him this far and still had what would inevitably be an equally amazing day planned. Hell he even got his first face painting. The least he could do was surprise him with breakfast in bed. 

 

A part of Clint hoped they could have other outings like this in the future. Okay so maybe they were dating. Okay they were definitely dating. But maybe Bucky was right and he didn't have to freak out about it. He should just enjoy it. After all it wasn't like he was in love with Phil. Right? 

 

A while later he crept into Phil's room with their canine companions. Phil laid on his side with a small frown creasing his beautiful features and his hand fisted in the sheets of Clint's spot. His eyes were still closed but he was clearly awake, at least to some degree. Clint bit his lip. He had wanted to wake him gently with kisses and maybe a blow job, but Arty had other ideas. She launched herself on to the bed (which was a great feat unto itself) and preceded to cover Phil in slobbering puppy kisses. 

 

Phil sat up laughing and hugged her to his chest. “And just what do you think you're doing, princess.”

 

“Sloppy kisses come complimentary with breakfast,” Clint said simply as he sat on the edge of the bed and traded the tray for their puppy as Lucky jumped up and lay at the foot. 

 

“Clint, what is all this?” Phil signed. 

 

Clint was grateful Phil had learned to sign while in the Secret Service with his pop. It made communicating while his ears were out much easier sometimes. Not that it was necessary. Sometimes it was just nice.

 

“Just breakfast for the best daddy ever.”

 

“Oh sweetheart, you're the best boy a daddy could ask for,” Phil said where Clint could watch his lips, as he lifted his hand to his mouth and kissed each knuckle. 

. 

The couple enjoyed a lazy breakfast with their dogs then killed two birds with one stone with blow jobs in the shower and still made it to the entrance with minutes to spare. 

 

They really did need all day - the place was huge! Clint was almost overwhelmed. Almost. 

 

While Phil had been in side NASA several times, it had been years since he had been to its visitor center. It felt right that it would be Clint he'd bring to see it. 

 

They had a few hours to kill before their special lunch plans so they spent the morning touring the exhibits. They saw a presentation on how astronauts lived in space (with lots of velcro apparently); a children's presentation on gravity and chemical reactions. They even spent an hour in the new Mythbusters exhibit, looking over blueprints and even trying to bust real myths for themselves like the airplane on a conveyor belt. Clint really got a kick out of the space suits through history. And finally as noon rolled around it was time for their lunch with an astronaut. 

 

The astronaut was Leland Melvin and he was immediately taken by Lucky. The two men spent the entire lunch of teriyaki salmon, asparagus and tres Leche cake talking about dogs leaving Phil all but ignored. Not that he minded, all that mattered was that his boy had a good time. As it turned out Leland (he insisted on first names) had two rescue dogs Jake and Scout. When Artemis was brought up Phil was included and the three men spent the entire hour exchanging stories of their canine counterparts instead of space stories. When their time had come to an end Leland sent them on their way with a copy of his official NASA Portrait with his two dogs signed from him Jake and Scout. All in all lunch was a huge success. 

 

They spent the rest of the afternoon on the tram tour of the official NASA facilities, Phil was even able to get them into the more secure areas running into friends as they went. 

 

When they got to the gift shop Phil would have to admit he might have gone a little crazy. But it was all for his boy he couldn't help it. Clint picked astronaut ice-cream and a t-shirt for himself but Phil saw him looking at other things. He got Clint a stuffed monkey in a space center shirt, a model of a shuttle they could build together and a coffee mug so Clint could have his own at his house and several more packets of astronaut food because Clint would get a kick out of that when he was in one of his moods. Yeah only a little overboard. 

 

They stopped by Dan's Pizza on the way home and brought one back to Phil's. Before eating they took both dogs in the backyard and let them do their business and play. Arty would try to tackle Lucky, Lucky would pin her down,  Artemis would get free and try again. They watched their dogs’ antics with amusement. 

 

Well Clint watched the dogs, Phil watched Clint. He still had that beautiful smile glued to his face and Phil couldn't be happier. Really. He couldn't remember a time when everything felt so right with the world. And that worried him. 

 

“Hey Phil?” Clint's voice cut through the silence of the night. 

 

“Yes, my sweet boy?”

 

“Thanks for this weekend. I can't remember the last time I had this much fun. You really are the best daddy ever. I mean that.” 

 

Oh boy. Phil was in big trouble and he knew it. What he didn't know was, what the hell he was gonna do about being madly in love with his best friend's son who wanted nothing to do with a relationship?

  
  
  



	8. The S.H.I.E.L.D. Charity Gala and The Scene that followed...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The evening of the S.H.I.E.L.D. Charity Gala, long planned by Phil and Pepper, doesn't get off to a great start. Due to an unexpected turn of events and a terrible misunderstanding, Phil believes Clint wants to return to his first 'Daddy' Steve and tonight, at the Gala, is the night he's going to do it. 
> 
> Clint's been completely wrong in his belief that he 'doesn't do relationships' - there's nothing he'd like more with Phil and he needs to let him know, the sooner the better. And tonight, at the Gala, seems to be these best time to do it. But as he starts to tell him he realises Phil believes Clint wants to leave him. How could he have messed up so badly? Again...
> 
> Is it going to be a total nightmare or the best thing that's ever happened? Either way there are going to be plenty of surprises in store for both men.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to let you know 'Part two - The Scene' has bondage and rope play. It's fully consensual by both parties but if this isn't for you or it's likely to be a trigger please be advised.

**Part one - the Gala**

As he stood at the bar, Phil felt like a tool; a delusional idiot. In fact he felt pretty fucking sorry for himself - like the sad old man he was. What had he even been thinking these last few months? Trying to fool himself into believing someone like Clint would want to be more than a fuck buddy with someone like him. That Clint would willingly break his own rule and have some kind of relationship with him if he gave him enough room, enough freedom.

He glared across at Rogers again as he chatted to Barnes looking incredible in his tux; broad shoulders, slim waist, tight ass. Fuck!

Phil was a few years shy of fifty and in his mind had none of those things. How could he even imagine Clint would want to stay with him after he sees Rogers in all his perfection tonight? It’s not that he believed for an instant the younger man was shallow enough to fall simply for Rogers’ looks but they’ll remind him what he’s been missing all the time he’s been with Phil. All the things his first Daddy, perhaps his only Daddy, could offer.

He turned his back on the sight of the other man and took a deep drink of his scotch (neat, no ice) then leaned forward with both elbows on the surface of the bar as he huffed out a bitter laugh. It was a good job he was co-hosting this thing with Pepper or he'd slink off to the nearest empty room and get blind drunk.

A gentle hand slid up his back and across his shoulders. It was a familiar touch and he didn’t flinch from it. Pepper. She leaned her chin on the hand that now rested on his shoulder with her thumb rubbing across the solid muscle hidden beneath his tux. “My god, Phil! I hope your mood improves before we get up there. What’s wrong?”

Phil downed the rest of his drink in one long swallow, grimacing at the burn in his throat and turned to look at her with eyes that were just a little too bright. He gave her a sad smile and a small shrug. “I’ll be fine. Just being morose.”

“What’s wrong,” she repeated softly. This wasn’t like her friend at all and it worried her.

For a moment Phil didn’t, _couldn’t_ answer - the lump in his throat was making it almost impossible for him to speak. He closed his eyes and clenched his teeth as he fought to control his emotions. “I’m losing him, Pepper.”

Her thumb stopped moving and she looked taken aback. “Clint? Why? What makes you say that? He’s in love with you, Phil.”

Stubbornly, her friend shook his head. “He’s been hanging out with Rogers.”

“The new guy at S.H.I.E.L.D.; the one at the housewarming with Bucky?”

Phil nodded.

Pepper was still doubtful as her tone made clear when she said, “Okaaaay.”

“Rogers is … _was_ his first… Daddy.”

“Ohhh! You’re sure?”

“About Rogers being his first or that they’ve been hanging out together?”

“That you’re losing him.” Pepper neither sighed nor rolled her eyes but it was a close thing. Phil was obviously hurting and as exasperated as she was with his dumbass answer, she didn’t want to cause him any more pain.

Phil closed his eyes and sighed for her. “Oh, of course. Duh! He was… quiet today when we were together. Subdued. He should have been excited about the gala. He had been all week. We both had. But this afternoon, before he left to get ready he… something was obviously on his mind. I thought a few times he wanted to talk but… he never did.”

He dropped his gaze to his empty glass on the bar top. Unfortunately it held no answers for him.

“But what makes you think he’s leaving you? You had such a wonderful weekend not so long ago; NASA, the brewery… all the things you did at the Boardwalk.”

The corner of Phil’s mouth turned up in a wistful half-smile at the reminder of what had been a perfect weekend. Just as quickly it disappeared as the happy memory was replaced by the not so happy recollection of a conversation he’d overheard between Rogers and Barnes when the three of them were in New York on business; how Rogers wanted his boy back, that he hadn’t realised just how much he missed him until he started spending time with him again. How he was willing to overlook his ‘brattiness’ if Clint returned to him; they’d work on that to make him a sweet and good boy again.

Phil had been so damned incensed he’d almost barged in to confront the other man, however Barnes’ unexpected response had stopped him in his tracks. To his surprise Barnes had tried to talk his friend out of it. It appeared they’d had this or a similar conversation before - apparently he’d already told Rogers he’d had his chance and that it hadn’t worked out. He reminded him Clint had someone else now and he seemed… happy. Happier than when he was with Rogers, not that he had agreed. It wasn’t until later when using his position as Fury’s best friend and not Clint’s new lover, Phil had called Rogers on his and Clint’s relationship causing the younger man to back off. Or so he’d thought. Perhaps he’d just pushed the two of them together.

He turned to stare across to where Rogers was laughing with Bucky and a few others from S.H.I.E.L.D. He was relaxed and confident. He tipped his glass to Phil and smiled at him. The older man wanted to punch him in the face. Hard. Not wanting to make a scene (and in any case he was bigger than that… probably) he gave him a nod of acknowledgement instead.

“You need to ask?”

Pepper joined him to look at Clint’s ex-. “Yeah, he’s pretty. So what? Some of the guys Clint works with at the HPD are kinda hot - Sam springs to mind - and you don’t seem to be worried about them.” She paused for a few seconds before adding, “He kind of looks kind of like a Dorito.”

Despite himself Phil snorted a short laugh. “You’ve been with Stark too long. He’s rubbing off on you. To answer your question, I’m not worried about them because he doesn’t have a past relationship with them. I’m pretty sure none of them have ever tried to hand feed him during sex and tell him he’s such a good boy for his Daddy.”

Pepper almost snapped her neck turning back to Phil who continued to stare straight ahead.

“Close your mouth, Pepper dear. It doesn’t become you.”

She snapped her teeth together nearly biting her tongue in her haste. She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks. “Oh my god Phil! I did _not_ need to know that.”

He huffed out small, forlorn laugh. He looked down at the floor then tilted his head to the side to look at her. The expression on his face almost broke her heart. “Actually I think perhaps you did. Clint… Clint was it for me. I fell in love with him months ago.”

“Oh Phil.” She reached down and put her hand in his giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’m so sorry.”

He shrugged. “I’ll get over it. I think a certain engineering genius playboy is attempting to get your attention. Go. Be with him. I’ll be ready to host this thing with you I promise.”

“I’m not wor…”

“Go, Pepper. I love you but I need a little more time to get myself together.”

She cupped the side of his face and looked into his eyes. She knew his honour and sense of duty would see him through the gala just as he’d make sure no-one knew he was being torn apart inside. It was _after_ tonight that had her concerned; _if_ he was right about Clint. And it was a big if. She just couldn’t believe it was true and prayed it wasn’t. She kissed his cheek and wiped the trace of lipstick off with her thumb before leaving him at the bar. Alone.

He was glad she’d heeded his request when she did. As she joined her partner whose face positively lit up when she neared him, Clint appeared in the entrance to the Contessa Room and was staring straight at him, and even from this distance Phil could see a determination about him that set his alarm bells ringing.

 

***

He didn’t need to search for Phil. As soon as he arrived Clint could feel his lover’s eyes on him and fuck! He looked so good in his tux; all shoulders and chest and sex. Like a real life James Bond. He felt his dick stirring and quickly willed it under control. He had to get through the next few minutes without any distractions and he was determined to do it. Even if he did want to drop to his knees and give Phil a blow job that would take a year off his life.

Cutting a path through the other attendees, he made his way to the bar keeping his eyes firmly fixed on Phil’s. He caught a glimpse of Steve who started to walk towards him but stopped short as Clint kept walking barely acknowledging him. Phil took a perverse pleasure in the surprised look on the other man’s face - although he must admit, he was puzzled by it himself.

After what seemed like an eternity Clint stood before the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. God, he wanted to reach out and touch him. He wanted to kiss him and nuzzle against his cheek and neck. He was so tempted to act on impulse and let the consequences be damned but he didn’t. He held his feelings in check. For now at least.

“Hey,” he said softly. “You look good.”

“As do you,” Phil replied.

And he did. Clint’s black tux with its deep purple lapels and matching tie was cut perfectly and his short spikes had been gelled to look wild and untamed.

“Can we go somewhere for a minute?” Clint asked, head tilted towards Phil with his hand rubbing the back of his neck.

So this was it. He was going to do it now. Before the gala began. Phil supposed it made some sort of sense. At least it would be over even if it did fuck up the entire night for him. It took every bit of control Phil had not to break down.

“You want to do this now?” he asked with a coldness that was unusual.

But Clint didn’t notice. He was too busy keeping his own emotions hidden. He needed to do this quickly. Get it out before he burst.

“I can’t wait any longer, Phil. I wanted to do it now. Can we? Just for a moment, I promise.”

And that’s all he was worth. All they were worth. A few minutes in an empty room almost as though the last few months had meant nothing. Phil swallowed hard and gave him a curt nod before turning away to lead the younger man to Courtyard outside the Contessa Room. It was emptying quickly as the guests made their way to their tables. By rights, he should be with Pepper getting ready to present the gala but now the wheels were in motion he had to see it through.

“What’s so important, Clint it couldn’t wait?”

This time Clint couldn’t mistake the icy tone in the other man’s voice or the cool gaze that was piercing his heart. He faltered almost losing his nerve.

“I… I… was wrong, Phil.”

Phil raised his eyebrow. “Really? About what exactly?”

“About us… being together like this.”

Phil felt like he’d been stabbed in the heart. Fuck! Hearing it out loud hurt so much more than he’d imagined. How did it get to this point? How had this even happened?

“I see. Well I appreciate you letting me know. Is there anything else you’d like to say or shall we get through to the reception now?”

He started to turn when Clint grabbed his arm.

“Phil wait! Don’t… I don’t…” He shook his head, terrified of the reaction his lover was having - it was as though… oh god! Did he think… did Phil think he was leaving him? He was making a fucking mess of this. Still clutching Phil’s arm, Clint took a deep breath and tried again.

“I love you. I was wrong when I said I didn’t do relationships. I was a fucking idiot to think I didn’t want that with you. You mean everything to me. Everything. It’s just… I fucked up before and I didn’t want to do it again. So I thought… if it was just sex… if I could keep it to just that. But you’ve given me more than I ever knew I wanted; more than I ever deserved. I love you. Phil? Please… I love you.”

Phil pulled his arm away from Clint’s hand turning his back on him to lean against one of the stone pillars. He closed his eyes, unsure he’d heard properly. Clint was in love with him. He wanted a relationship. The mistake was that he hadn’t admitted it to himself, not that they were a mistake. He’d been wrong. He’d been so wrong. And so stupid. Very, very stupid.

He felt a gentle hand hesitantly touch his shoulder accompanied by a whisper of his name; timid and afraid. He turned round slowly so as not to scare Clint any further and immediately hated himself for what he saw. Clint’s head was down and he was worrying the corner of his thumb, something he hadn’t done in a long time.

“Oh, Clint,” he said softly. “I’m sorry. My sweet boy, I’m so very sorry. Today you seemed distant. I… I thought… I thought you wanted to go back to your first Daddy. I thought I wasn’t good enough for you and you didn’t know how to tell me. I love you. I’ve loved you for so long. And I’ve been so stupid. Can you forgive me? _Will_ you forgive me?”

The force of Clint throwing his arms round Phil pushed him back against the pillar knocking the breath from his lungs and if that hadn’t done it, the kiss that Clint gave him - hard and demanding - pretty much did. Phil didn’t resist, instead kissing him back with equal intensity. He’d been so sure he’s never get the opportunity to touch Clint again the fact he was actually doing it was almost overwhelming.

Eventually they broke apart needing to come up for air as much as anything else. Immediately Phil began to apologise again.

“Sweetheart… I’m…”

“No. No more apologies,” Clint interrupted. “Except I want you to know I’m sorry I made you consider it was a even possibility that I didn’t want to be with you. I don’t want to be _without_ you.”

Phil nodded and pulled Clint to him again, wrapping his arms around him holding the younger man close. He was still fighting back the tears but these ones he welcomed.

“There’s just one thing…” the sniper told him, his voice sounding rough and gravelly.

Phil pulled back to look him in the eyes, which were twinkling and full of mischief. Slowly a smile spread across his face.

“Yes?”

“Tonight I want you to take me home and fuck me hard. But I don’t want to be your little boy. I want to be Clint and you to be Phil and I want you do things to me you’ve never done before. Is that… would that be okay?”

Phil looked at him longingly before mashing his lips against Clint’s. “That,” he growled in between kisses, “would be perfect.”

 

***

 

Neither of them realised they had an audience. A certain Nicholas Fury, ex-Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., Phil’s best friend and Clint’s pop was standing at the one window which had an excellent view of the two men, with his arms crossed and a pleased look on his face.

“Do they still think they’re fooling anyone?” said a voice by his shoulder.

He didn’t bother to turn round. He always knew when Maria Hill was standing beside him. In her own way she had just as much presence as he did.

“Uh-huh. I don’t know whether to be pissed with the pair of them or fin it cute,” he told her as he turned towards her. He held out his arm. “Shall we go in, Ms Hill.”

She smiled and linked her arm with his.

 

***

Clint watched Phil in action with Pepper. They were a great team and worked with a smoothness that some professionals would be jealous of. Phil’s snappy one-liners and deadpan delivery along with Pepper’s mischievousness and charm had the gala attendees lapping it up and dipping deep into their pockets for such a worthy event.

The only problem was the more Clint watched the more turned on he became. The older man looked sexy as fuck standing up there introducing items for the charity auction with a quiet competence that was incredibly hot especially when he flirted with someone hesitant to make a bid (which of course convinced them to spend more than they’d intended). It was so different to his day job where he blended into the background as the director of a multi-million dollar firm dealing in secrets and security - but tonight his blue eyes shone with enthusiasm. He genuinely seemed to be in his element instead of uncomfortable as many people would be.

And if that wasn’t enough every so often he would stare directly at Clint and give him that half-smile which crinkled the corner of his eyes and deepened his dimples. Yeah… sexy as fuck. And by now Clint was achingly hard and horny as Lucifer.

There was a brief moment that caused the sniper to worry (and almost poured ice water on his libido). Steve came over to talk to him, possessively putting his hand on Clint’s shoulder as he did so. Phil seemed to pause for just a shade too long before he started speaking again. No-one except those who knew him well would have noticed but to Clint and Pepper, especially after Phil’s confessions of earlier, it was jarring.

Clint moved so that Steve’s hand fell away and his responses were sharper than normal. He didn’t want to hurt his ex-, he honestly still enjoyed his company, but he wanted him to know that he was no longer available. Not now, not ever. After being with Phil, he knew the things Steve and he wanted were too different. He wasn’t a little kid and he didn’t want to be treated like one. He didn’t want to wear onesies with feet; he wanted to be able to drink a beer while watching cartoons or eat chocolate pudding, drink from a juice box and hold his plushie while watching horror movies. Steve didn’t understand that. Phil did. Phil also wanted to show him another world, one which Clint was eager to learn about and would hopefully begin tonight.

After removing himself from Steve’s grip, Clint ducked his head and glanced across at Phil. He smiled across at the younger man and his posture which had stiffened as Clint’s ex- approached, became relaxed once again.

Steve’s easy-going smile, turned into a puzzled frown when Clint pulled away from him. He looked at the man who was once his “good little boy”, and followed his gaze to the stage and… Phil Coulson. In that moment, everything became so clear. Coulson was the person Clint had been seeing. _Coulson_ was Clint’s new Daddy.

Steve’s mouth dropped open. It all made sense. His mind flashed back to Clint’s housewarming - _organised by Coulson_ ; the way they’d stood so close together, somehow touching without actually being physical; then to the confrontation between himself and his boss when they were in New York on business - how he’d called him on his behaviour towards Clint when they were together. Oh it had been under the guise of being Nick Fury’s best friend and concern for the wellbeing of Fury’s adopted son, but now he saw it for what it really was; concern over his lover, over his ‘boy’.

It also explained the way the older man had been glaring at him during the early part of the evening, almost as though he wanted to punch him in the face. Totally different to the way he was looking at him now, calm and at peace. Obviously something had happened between him and Clint at some point which had cemented their relationship. Relationship! Clint must have made a decision to commit. Well! Well! So much for Clint’s favourite fall back when things became too serious ‘I don’t do relationships anymore’. He wished Coulson luck if he thought he could keep the bratty side of Clint under control. _He_ never could.

As Steve was mulling things over in his mind, Pepper was introducing the next auction item. While he had the chance, Steve took the opportunity to subtly hold his hands up to his boss in a placating gesture acknowledging that he understood Clint was no longer free for him to pursue. It earned him a slight nod from the older man. No smile, but no daggers either. Steve counted it as a win.

Keeping his hands by his sides, he leaned down and whispered into Clint’s ear, “I didn’t know it was Coulson.”

Eyes still on his lover, the sniper shrugged. “Does it matter?”

“I might not have been such an chump when you came round to the apartment that day to pick up Lucky and see the furballs.”

Clint turned his gaze towards his ex- as he rubbed the back of his neck in an embarrassed gesture that Steve was all too familiar with. “Yeah… well…”

“Look. If you’re happy then… I guess I am too. He’s a good boss I know that much. I just hope he’s taking care of you.”

Clint wanted to tell him it was none of his damned business but that would have been uncalled for. He knew Steve was only being concerned that his needs were being met. Not everyone would want to take on the role of his daddy. Instead he looked back at Phil and said softly, “He is.”

The way Clint spoke convinced Steve more than anything and he nodded. “Okay then. I guess… I’ll see you around.”

He raised his hand to touch Clint but immediately thought the better of it and let it fall by his side.

When he returned to his table, Steve dropped into his seat beside Bucky looking somewhat dazed. He reached out and lifted his glass downing the contents in one quick swallow.

“It’s Coulson!” he murmured.

Bucky snorted out a laugh clinking his glass against Steve’s. “I guess you found out then. Told you not to worry about it; he was being taken care of.”

“But _Coulson_ though! Dammit, Buck!”

 

***

The invitation said ‘Carriages at Midnight’ - an old fashioned way of saying the Gala would finish at the stroke of twelve. Unofficially however it would go on for another few hours. As one of the hosts, Phil would be needed until at least one am. Clint knew that. Phil had taken him aside after the auction and explained. He tried not to let his disappointment show. He was desperate to get back home with Phil and… and what? Tonight had been a weird rollercoaster ride of emotion. He’d been at least half-hard most of the evening but he wasn’t sure if he just wanted to go home and cuddle and fall asleep in his lover’s arms or have him pound him through the mattress. Either option was good with him. And if _he_ was tired Phil would probably be shattered.

“Do you still want me to take you home and fuck you hard?”

Clint couldn’t stop the shiver that ran down his spine. That quiet, raspy voice in his ear… fuck! Apparently someone was as fresh as a daisy. And that reignited the fire in Clint's belly making his cock twitch back to life.

“I do now. I thought you were going to be here for another few hours.”

Phil ducked his head and looked up at Clint giving him a bashful grin. “Apparently something’s wrong with me and you’re taking me home.”

“Didn’t look like there was anything wrong when you were doing your MC with Pepper. You looked fucking amazing!”

Phil dropped his gaze from Clint’s eyes as a slight blush spread across his cheeks at the compliment but he couldn’t prevent the grin from getting wider.

“Shit! What did you say to pop?” the younger man asked with a concerned look on his face.

“Wasn’t me. Pepper,” Phil told him by way of explanation. He shrugged apologetically his blush deepening as he continued. “She may have been around when I was… acting like a miserable teenager before you and I… talked.”

“You _told_ her!”

“Clint, she’s known for months. And no I didn’t tell her. She reads people for a living. She’s better at it than I am and apparently, when I’m around you the stick up my ass isn’t quite as deeply lodged.”

Although still worried that his adoptive dad would find out, Phil’s turn of phrase made him laugh.

“What about pop though?” Clint asks when he finally stopped.

“Yeah… that's the weird thing; he’s the one who volunteered to take my place.”

“Really? Fuck! He must think you’re dying or something.”

“Huh!” Phil responded with the childlike expression he occasionally wore when something really surprised him. “That’s what I thought too.”

Clint rested his hand on Phil's arm and leaned in close. “Then let’s get out of here before he finds you're fighting fit.”

“And horny as hell,” Phil added with a quick grin.

Clint being Clint decided to chance his luck as they headed for the car. “Sooo… if I’m taking you home, does that mean I get to drive Lola?”

“Dying, Clint… not dead!” Phil deadpanned.

 

***

 

Phil’s house wasn’t far from the venue, they’d be home in less than forty-five minutes. Quicker if the traffic was light. Lola was on fine form and purred like a contented cat on the drive except for one or two places where Phil could put his foot down a little making her engine growl. Phil always brought her to the event and tonight Clint was very glad he had. It gave him something to focus on instead of thinking too hard about his dick (hard… dick... hehehe). She also centred Phil who relaxed into his seat handling the controls of the ‘62 Corvette with the easy style of someone who loved his car and took great pleasure in driving her.

Clint was mesmerised by Phil’s hand on the stick shift as he ran through the gears. It was firm yet gentle and he imagined the older man with his hand wrapped round his cock like that. He squirmed in his seat a little. He flicked his eyes to Phil’s groin and could just about make out the rigid outline of his cock in his dress pants. Just to make sure Clint dropped his hand to Phil's lap sliding carefully along his length which earned him a surprised but pleased grunt. Clint grinned and let go, happy in the knowledge they were definitely on the same page.

It wasn’t quite record time back to Phil’s place, but it wasn’t far off. As they entered his house, the pair tried to remain chilled, calm (difficult after Clint’s palming of Phil’s cock).

They were in turns nervous and excited about what was to come. _I want you to do things to me that you’ve never done before…_ the sentence kept running through both their minds and it was Phil who brought it up. Of course. He dropped his keys on the table and turned to face Clint pulling him into a gentle embrace. He kissed him softly on the corner of his mouth nuzzling his nose against the younger man’s cheek.

“I know you don’t like to talk but this needs some discussion before we go ahead.”

Clint sighed his hard-on wilting somewhat. Heavy discussions tended to do that. “Thought it might.”

Phil gave him a quick glance smiling at the pout on Clint’s face. He leaned in giving him another kiss and squeezed his ass firmly with one hand. “Brat! It shouldn’t take long but it’s important. Is there anything in particular you meant when you said it.“

Clint didn’t answer for a moment trying to put the images in his mind into words. He rested his forehead against Phil’s. “Do you remember when we were discussing our kinks?”

Phil nodded.

“Something stayed in my head. I mean I remember all of it but… you said something that really stayed with me.” He paused again then leaned back to look at the other man. “‘ _I’d much rather tell you how well you take my cock and how pretty you look covered in my come._ ’ That’s what I want, Phil. I want you to tie me up and cover me in your come.”

Phil could feel his heart race in his chest. Although they’d talked about Clint being tied up when they had their initial discussion, it hadn’t been mentioned much since then. Oh, he had always remained hopeful but he didn’t want to push it. It was a decision Clint had to make by himself. And to find out that he also wanted him to come on him while he was bound… damn! It was only years of training that kept Phil’s bland mask in place when he really wanted to push the younger man against the wall and fuck him.

Instead he took a careful breath before asking calmly, “Have you thought about how you want to do this? How you want to be tied?”

“I… dunno. I guess however you want me.”

Phil drew back a little and looked at him shaking his head. “No. If we do this, you’re in charge. I know my limits, Clint but I don’t know yours.”

The sniper chewed his lip as he thought more about it. That made sense. He’d experimented a little in college with furry handcuffs and ties but, although it was fun, it wasn’t… exciting. Neither of them, his partner or himself, really knew what they were doing and it turned out to be more of a laugh than anything. With Phil he knew he’d be safe. Phil would take care of him. And he wanted to try something more than… well furry handcuffs.

He began hesitantly. “I… want to be tied to the bed. Maybe… stretched out corner to corner.”

Phil’s cock twitched eagerly in his pants. He could easily visualise Clint naked, spread out on the mattress, his wrists and ankles bound to the bedposts. Oh fuck! If nothing else happened tonight that image would be forever seared into his brain. Maintaining his composure for the next few minutes was going to be more difficult than he realised. But he would try. Keeping his face carefully blank, he nodded and asked, “Scarves or ties?”

Clint blushed and touched his hand to the back of his neck. “I guess… if I had a choice… rope? After we talked, I looked it up on a few websites and saw some pictures. And… it looked… I dunno… pretty? The knots…” He stopped suddenly letting the sentence trail off. “Ah forget it, Phil. I’m being dumb.”

Immediately the older man reached up and took Clint’s hand in his own rubbing the back of the sniper's knuckles with his thumb. He smiled gently. “No. You’re not. You’re never dumb. And for the record what you’re describing can be very beautiful. I’d love to do this with you.”

He dropped his eyes for a moment, a faint blush colouring his cheeks as it had done earlier. “I did something after we talked too. I went shopping. I didn’t know if I’d ever get to use them with you but… I bought some new rope and restraints. I thought perhaps if you were ever interested… it would be good to have them ready.”

Clint grinned at him, the shy admission somehow making him feel a lot better. “New rope and restraints, huh?”

Phil smiled back and raised his eyebrow. “I’m not a stranger to this; I have rope. I take good care of it. But yes, I wanted new kit for you. Sue me.”

“I’d rather screw you.”

Phil rolled his eyes but what the hell… as they were having that kind of discussion anyway, he actually thought seriously about it. “Is that something you’d like?”

Clint smirked. “Maybe? But not tonight. Tonight I want you and… well you know what else I want.”

“Yeah,” Phil growled. “I know what I want too. Why don’t you go have a shower and I’ll get things ready for us. And warm up after the shower, Clint. Make sure your muscles are nice and loose.”

The sniper slowly dragged his teeth over his bottom lip before giving Phil a quick nod. His heart was pounding and the blood roared in his ears. Clint could sense the other part of Phil, the dark part he usually kept under tight control, was coming forward which made him shiver with anticipation. What they were about to do was both thrilling and a little scary but he trusted Phil completely. He knew he’d never hurt him.

 

**Part two - the Scene**

As Clint disappeared to shower, Phil closed his eyes and breathed deeply, inhaling through his nose, exhaling through his mouth, trying to centre himself. Tonight had gone from being a total clusterfuck to… something he’d only fantasised about. The corner of his mouth turned up in a half-smile. To know that Clint was putting his trust in him like this made him feel incredible, powerful… humble. Taking a final deep breath, he scrubbed his palm over his face and was pleased to find his hand had stopped shaking. He was in control again.

With preparations to make, he needed to be more comfortable so he toed off his shoes and slipped off his tux jacket, carefully draping it over a chair. He pulled the knot of his tie apart and removed it before unfastening the first few buttons of his collar. After pulling off his socks he tossed them across the room into the laundry basket grinning when they bounced off the inside edge and fell in. Finally, he rolled up his sleeves to just below his elbow which incidentally, left plenty of powerful forearm on display. That done, he made his way to the kitchen to gather some supplies for later. For Phil aftercare was as important as the scene itself and he didn't want to have to leave Clint on his own when they were finished.

Remembering Clint had mentioned keeping his daddy kink separate from other bedroom activities, he made sure the selection he chose was completely different to things Clint would normally have - dark chocolate with hot chilli pieces, unopened bottles of water and lemon-lime Gatorade, and some fresh figs cut into bite size pieces; all things he still enjoyed, but definitely nothing childlike.

As he headed to the bedroom, he picked up a couple of fluffy towels and a warm, soft throw that Clint had bought him a while back. It smelled of Phil and would be perfect for later.

He laid the food and drink supplies on the nightstand and dropped the rest onto the chair with his tux. Making short work of the bed he stripped it of all the pillows and covers putting them to the side before detaching the headboard and maneuvering it away from the wall; he was going to need all round access soon enough.

He took a final look to see if he’d missed anything and satisfied he hadn’t, nodded to himself. All that was left was to retrieve his rope bag from the back of the closet which he set it on the bed opening it with a gentle smile playing on his lips. His old ropes had been checked, cleaned and put away replaced by the new ones. He ran the tips of his fingers over them before taking out a length and examining it; yes the pieces were new but it wouldn't hurt to check them over before using them.

As he ran the rope through his hands, the ensuite door opened and closed and Clint appeared by his shoulder. When he saw the bag he let out a gasp. Hesitantly he reached out to touch them, looking at Phil before his fingers made contact. Encouraged by the other man's nod he stroked the first rope.

“They’re purple,” he whispered. “You really _did_ get them just for me.”

Phil smiled and kissed his bare shoulder gently. “I really did.”

He watched the sniper for a moment gauging his reaction and noticed he was shivering. Phil rested his hand on Clint’s back between the shoulder blades. His skin was flushed and warm from the shower. His temperature appeared to be fine but he checked with him anyway.

“Talk to me, Clint. How are you feeling? Are you cold?”

He shook his head. “No. Not cold. Happy I guess. Excited.”

Delighted by his response, Phil pulled him into another embrace stroking his back and buttocks with his fingers, sliding his palms over his skin. Clint pressed his naked body against Phil’s still fully clothed which he found to be quite a turn on in itself.

“You gonna stay like that? Not that I'm complaining. You look fucking gorgeous,” he murmured nipping and sucking along Phil’s jaw before kissing his mouth.

Instead of replying Phil deepened the kiss sliding his tongue past Clint’s lips. Clint groaned and parted them further. The pair let themselves be carried along in the moment, their breath soon coming in short pants and gasps. Phil’s fingers dug into the sniper’s buttocks leaving impressions in the skin. If they kept this up he’d come before they even got started.

Clint apparently had the same thought and eventually broke away resting his forehead against the older man’s. “Jesus, Phil. I want you.”

Phil couldn’t argue; he wanted Clint every bit as much. His voice thick and gravelly he asked, “Do you want to begin?”

Clint nodded. “Yeah.”

“Did you remember to warm up and stretch?”

Again Clint nodded. He didn’t normally need to warm up before sex, fucking was fucking not running a marathon, but as Phil had asked him to do it, he reasoned this would be somewhat different. He was glad he had - the pleased look he got from Phil and the way his eyes darkened tightened the coil of anticipation in his belly.

“Why don’t you lie on the bed and get comfortable?”

 

***

 

Clint gave him a quick flash of a grin and let go of him to climb on and get himself settled. He felt a little self conscious as Phil’s eyes roamed over his body seeming to devour him but the gentle touch of Phil’s hand on his shoulder and the warm smile slowly spreading across his lover’s face put him at ease.

It took Phil a few moments until he could focus his thoughts clearly. Clint looked gorgeous lying there; arms stretched out, legs open, cock hard and leaking already. Beautiful. He studied the younger man’s wrists and ankles; the 6mm rope would be perfect - 4mm would be too small; round his cock and balls yes but that wasn’t for tonight. Perhaps another time if all went well and Clint liked it enough to do it again.

It was the knots that had him deep in thought. The cat’s paw single column was quick to apply and a pretty knot to look at and, if he ran it across Clint’s palm, it would give him a good handle to grip on to. The downside was it was likely to cinch down if Clint were to struggle or writhe about the bed and Phil intended to do things to him that would cause a lot of struggling and writhing.

Taking Clint’s lack of experience into account and also that this was their first time trying bondage together he decided to stay with a lark’s head single column. It was an attractive knot that would lie relatively flat and would be very secure. Again if he put the knot on the front of Clint’s wrist, it would give him something told hold on to making him feel less helpless and for his first time that would probably be very important for him. The downside here was that the knot would lie against the sensitive part of his wrist which might be a little less comfortable. It was something they could discuss.

Decision made on the knot he lifted a piece, maybe two lengths of his arm and moved the bag to the side within easy reach.

“Are you ready, Clint?” he asked softly.

Feeling apprehensive, Clint looked up at Phil with wide eyes and nodded. Phil noted that his cock had begun to soften and his body was tensing up. He would stop if Clint really didn’t want to continue. There was no way he’d enjoy the rest of the night if his partner didn’t but he didn’t want to abandon things just yet.

Keeping his voice low and calm he talked to Clint, gently caressing his face and neck, ghosting his fingertips across his shoulders and chest in long soothing strokes as he did so. “There’s no need for you to be afraid, Clint. I won’t hurt you. I promise you we won’t do anything that makes you scared or uncomfortable. This has to be good for both of us. Okay?”

Reassured, Clint nodded again but this time with more conviction.

Phil continued, “If anything feels wrong or you feel any discomfort or pain, I need you to tell me immediately. I’ll never be angry if you feel you have to use your safeword, Clint. Tell me it again.”

“Budapest.”

“And mine?”

“Blue Corvette.”

“That’s good, Clint. You’re being so good for me.”

“What if…”

When Clint hesitated, Phil nodded for him to continue.

“What if I don’t want to stop but… I want you to slow down?”

“How about the traffic signal system. Green is go or good, yellow is slow down and red is stop for a moment. Budapest or Blue Corvette means we finish the scene immediately. Are you okay with that?”

Clint nodded. It seemed put his mind at rest and seeing his body finally begin to relax, Phil smiled at him. “Bend your elbow for me, beautiful. Just enough so that you’re comfortable. That’s it. That’s good.”

As he spoke, his nimble fingers quickly made a larks head and when Clint’s arm was in a good position, he carefully slipped it over his wrist making sure to avoid the radial artery. Continuing through the process, he explained everything to Clint as he went along knowing that if he kept the sniper informed it would go a long way to help keep him relaxed. He tightened and dressed the cords of the cuff then checked he could get two fingers under the rope before tightening the knot. As he did so he asked Clint if he wanted to be able to hold it, telling him the pros and cons of doing so.

“I’d like to hold it this time,” Clint told him. Phil was happy to oblige and moved the knot round to the front of his wrist. At Phil’s request, Clint tried it out and nodded he was happy with it. It seemed Phil’s decision to talk to the sniper as he worked was the right one and by the time Clint’s first wrist was bound and secured to the bedpost he was less anxious and his cock had begun to lengthen and fill out again.

“How do you feel?” Phil asked him touching his fingers to his skin not only to sooth the sniper but to check his temperature. He was warm but didn't seem to be too hot. Next he held Clint’s fingers between his own. Again they were warm indicating his circulation was fine.

“Good,” Clint replied. His voice was rough and his eyes had darkened. Phil could see he was beginning to get into it which made him relax a little bit more himself. “Everything feels good.”

"Any numbness or tingling? Do your hands or fingers feel cold?”

“No nothing like that.”

“That’s good, Clint. Thank you for telling me. Ready for the next one?”

The younger man smiled and nodded which Phil returned. Following the same process as before, he once again took care not to let the trailing rope ends whip back into Clint’s face or damage his implant. Even with several tail pulls necessary to complete the knot, Phil’s rope experience was clear and once again he made short work of tying Clint’s wrist. As before he moved the knot round to the front and into Clint's hand.

When he was finished he did the same physical and verbal checks with the sniper; he appeared to be relaxed and happy. Pleased with the responses and with Clint’s mental and physical wellbeing, Phil carried on until the he was fully bound and secured to the bed; legs open, elbows bent, cock hard and dribbling. Phil stood at the foot and gazed at him.

“Fuck, Clint. You look so beautiful,” he told him, his voice tight with wonder.

“I do?”

His surprise and innocence once again made Phil feel humble. Walking back along the side of the bed he slowly trailed his fingers up the length of Clint’s body from ankle to chest leaving a path of goosebumps in his wake and Clint shuddering from his touch. Phil leaned down to kiss him tenderly.

“You really do,” he confirmed, pulling back to look him in the eye. The smile Clint gave him made his heart soar.

Reluctantly, Phil straightened and lifted the rope bag to set on the floor, pushing it under the bed with his toe. The EMT scissors he kept out and laid on the nightstand within easy reach just in case they should be needed. Reaching into the drawer, he brought out a bottle of lube and some wet wipes. He snapped open the bottle and poured some into his spreading it over his palm.

“Do you trust me?”

Even though he thought it was a dumbass question, Clint didn’t hesitate. “Of course.”

“Tug on the ropes for me… just a little.”

Clint did as he was asked. It was weird but it felt fine - nothing slipped or tightened and he told Phil without having to be asked. At Phil’s hum of approval, he could feel the warm sensation inside his belly deepen and his cock twitched against his golden skin leaving a string of pre-come glistening in the blonde curls.

“You’ve been so good for me, Clint.” Phil’s voice was low and husky making him shudder. “Let me be good for you now.”

Clint jumped sucking in a startled breath as Phil wrapped his fist around his achingly hard cock. With the anticipation that had been building over the course of the evening, he was sensitive and needy and he moaned as the older man began a slow and steady stroking motion up and down his length.

Phil worked him slowly at first, delighting in the way that Clint pulled at the ropes and writhed on the bed as he glided along his shaft, palm pressing against the throbbing vein. The muscles of the sniper’s arms and legs strained against the cords and he moaned and cursed beneath Phil’s firm touch. Phil gradually increased the pace tightening and loosening his grip, hand twisting near the head as it leaked and dribbled pre-come. Clint thrust up into his fist unable to keep still on the bed.

“Fuck! Fuck! FUCK!” he cried out raising his head from the mattress and slamming it back down again. Already his short spikes were coated with sweat and the more he thrashed and flailed, the more his body glistened. For Phil it was incredible to watch and he felt his own cock throb, jealous of the attention Clint’s was receiving.

“Fuck, Phil. Please! PLEASE!” His eyes were wide and he stared unblinking at the older man begging him, pleading with him.

“What’s wrong, beautiful?” Phil asked him with a teasing note to his voice. “Do you want to come already? No. That’s not going to happen. Not any time soon.”

Clint's eyebrows came together in frustration and he cried out almost angry at his response. But the cry turned to a moan, long and loud coming from his core. It was maddening, it was torture and it was so, so good. He could feel a tightening of his balls, a familiar warmth curling in the pit of his stomach and he called out again as Phil’s thumb pressed against his slit. And then his touch was gone leaving Clint twitching and shaking on the bed.

“No! No, no, no!” he whined.

Phil stood beside him, gazing down at him with a smirk as he wiped the lube off his hands. The sonofabitch! A fucking smirk. Clint wanted to punch it right off his face but hey! Hands tied.

“How do you feel?” Phil asked him the gentleness of his voice at odds with the glint in his eyes.

“Fuck you!” Clint tried to snap at him but even to his ears it sounded more like begging. He glared at Phil. Angry at him for tying him up (even though it’s what he wanted) and edging him (which he had no idea he wanted); and angry at himself for fucking loving it. Phil had held off Clint’s orgasm before so that when it finally came it left him shattered and breathless but the lack of control he had being bound to the bedposts heightened his sensitivity making every touch more intense.

Phil gave his thigh a sharp slap making him jump… and groan. Jesus! Even being struck felt good. What the fuck was up with that? He’d never experienced that before. Ever. And it made him wonder what it would feel like if Phil slapped his ass red. Neither he nor Phil could miss the spurt of pre-come that leaked from his slit at the thought of further contact from Phil's hand. Phil raised an eyebrow but chose not to comment on it. Instead he chided Clint for his behaviour.

“Not nice,” he told him, mildly. “Tell me how you feel, Cint.”

As he spoke, Phil touched his hand to Clint’s chest. The younger man arched into it pressing his hot flesh against Phil’s palm. His temp was up but not unexpectedly so. A light sheen of sweat coated his body and his face, neck and chest were flushed with arousal. As before Phil walked around the bed holding fingertips and toes, checking his hands and feet for their circulation. Even with the tugging Clint had done, everything was still warm.

“Talk to me, Clint. Give me a colour.”

“Green. It feels good. I feel fine.”

“Any tingling or numbness?”

“No. I’m good, Phil. Don’t stop. Please.”

Phil nodded. “Okay, beautiful. Let’s try something different shall we?”

The bed dipped slightly as Phil climbed on, knees on either side of Clint’s hips, hands bracketing his head; his beautiful hands attached to those sexy forearms. Phil leaned down and kissed him again - deep and filthy, his tongue parting Clint’s lips, the tip teasing against Clint’s then brushing down the side as he explored his mouth. The sniper moaned and opened wider as he thrust up against Phil’s dress pants rubbing his cock against Phil’s. The material was rough against his soft skin but he continued to rut against him not caring that the lube would probably stain. Obviously neither did Phil.

“Gonna mark you as mine, beautiful. Is that okay?”

Clint whimpered. “Yes. Oh god yes.”

Phil pulled away to nip and lick the line of Clint’s jaw, trailing a path down the younger man’s neck to the curve of his shoulder with his lips and tongue. Here he sucked hard, scraping his teeth against the skin, raising the blood to the surface. Clint groaned at Phil’s skilful technique; it wasn’t so much painful as intense going straight to his cock.

Finally happy with his mark, knowing the bruise would be there for days, he continued down Clint’s chest to his nipples. He took one in his mouth while his fingers sought out the other, scratching his blunt nails across it then pinching it between his fingertips as his teeth nipped at the first.

Clint whined and bucked his hips. Fuck! Who was this man and what had he done with Phil Coulson? It’s not that they hadn’t done things like this before but it was obvious now that Phil had always held a little of himself back. But not tonight. Tonight he had no inhibitions. It seemed all he wanted was to feel pleasure; his, Clint’s it didn’t matter. And it was rocking Clint’s fucking world!

Too soon, and to the other man’s dismay or delight - he wasn’t sure which yet - Phil moved on again. This time he used his teeth and tongue as he travelled southwards nipping and licking over the ridges of hard muscle on Clint’s abdomen. With surprising grace he slid over Clint’s thighs until his nose was nudging the younger man’s groin. Dropping down further still he kissed the areas on the inside of Clint’s thighs he knew were sensitive making him gasp and squirm.

Phil’s own cock throbbed painfully in his pants desperate to be touched. He reached down and pressed against it in a futile attempt to ease some of the pressure. Coming right now was not an option. Perhaps sucking on Clint’s balls would serve enough of a distraction. The strangled moan as he took one into his mouth, made him smirk. It would do… for now.

He hummed with pleasure at the musky scent and taste sending another shiver through the man above him and it was with some regret when it came time for him to let it go. However places to go, lovers to satisfy and his next target was the perineum. He licked along the velvety skin between Clint’s balls and asshole, lathing the sensitive cluster of nerves with his tongue.

Over and over Clint cried out as the exquisite torture Phil had devised almost blew his mind. Phil kept it up for as long as he dared before deciding it was time for his cock to be teased. He licked back along Clint's balls and up the ridge that runs along the underside, taking it in his warm, wet mouth swallowing him down until the tip nudged his throat. Clint tried not to but he couldn’t help thrusting into Phil's mouth.

“Fuck! Oh fuck! Fuck, Phil!”

Phil pressed his hands into Clint’s hips holding him in place while he did his best to suck the sniper’s brains out the end of his dick. Clint’s eyes rolled to the back of his head as Phil gave him the best blow job of his life. Once again he could feel his balls tightening, the heat pooling in his belly and, of course, that’s when the glorious pressure disappeared along with Phil’s mouth. The evil bastard either had a sixth sense or his balls must really go hard when he was about to blow. Either way… FUCK!

“Aww no, Phil,” he whined raising his head but what he saw next stopped him from protesting further.

Eyes on Clint’s, his intense gaze pinning him to the bed, Phil leaned back on his heels and began to unfasten his dress pants, slowly pulling down the zipper, opening the ends wide enough to let them slide over his hips. Clint was frozen. His eyes widened as he watched Phil drag his briefs down to free his cock, hard and glistening with pre-come, and begin to stroke it.

“Oh fuck,” the sniper whispered, mesmerised by his lover’s long, elegant fingers wrapped around his own dick. They'd look good on his cock but on Phil's… fucking gorgeous!

Never taking his eyes off Clint, Phil slid his hand up and down his shaft in long, unhurried strokes. He’d almost come twice while blowing Clint so he knew it wouldn’t take long. And he was right. A few pumps and twists near the head and it was his turn to feel the familiar beginnings of an orgasm build in his balls and the pit of his stomach. Squeezing and rubbing his cock hard, almost cruelly, he finally gave in allowing himself to come groaning through clenched teeth as the thick white drops splattered onto Clint’s stomach and chest. His body jerked with the aftershocks, chest heaving as he fought to pull air into his lungs, his hand stilling on his spent cock.

Clint moaned, his slit dribbling as the warm come landed on his skin. It felt... good. So fucking good. He could do nothing but watch, transfixed while Phil juddered and shook and then slumped forward. In one last moment of clarity before all rational thought left his brain, he believed Phil had never looked more amazing than at that moment.

Slowly, Phil raised his head. He smiled at Clint, not with mischief or devilment, but with love. “You really do look pretty covered in my come,” he whispered. "And now you, beautiful."

He still had the presence of mind to pull up his pants and tuck himself away before he climbed off the bed to begin the glorious torture again. He wrapped his fist around Clint's cock and jerked him off. As he'd known with himself he had no doubt Clint would come quickly once he started.

The muscles of Clint’s entire body flexed and rippled as he pulled against the ropes. His back arched while Phil continued to pump his cock, slow and steady at first gradually building up his speed increasing the pressure, stroking and squeezing his dick before slowing it all down again. Clint’s breathing was coming in short gasps when he could manage to take air in. This time as the orgasm started Phil kept stroking him, encouraging him with praise and tender words.

When the first spurts of come spattered against his skin he jerked upright as far as the ropes would allow calling out before falling back against the mattress, his body flailing helplessly as wave after wave the orgasm rolled over him. Through his cries and yells, he was vaguely aware that as it painted his torso, his come was mixing with Phil's and he took pleasure in that before he lost all conscious thought.

Phil kept wanking him milking every drop from his cock making him quiver and tremble on the bed jerking him into an upright position twice more before he collapsed, groaning and panting. He was done, empty, exhausted… and blissfully happy

 

***

 

Although Clint was finished, Phil wasn’t. He stood up carefully so as not to disturb Clint too much but it was enough to rouse him from his blissed out haze.

“Phil?” he called out, his voice slurred. “Don’t go.”

“Not going anywhere, beautiful. Just need to clean you up and untie you. Okay?”

“‘Kay”

“Good boy.” He winced at the use of the phrase but Clint didn’t seem to bother. He was either too exhausted or too gone to have noticed. Admittedly there was often a crossover with BSDM and ‘daddy’ kink but he knew Clint wanted these kept separate and he wanted to respect his wishes.

Before he did anything else, Phil checked Clint’s hands and feet. They were still warm and when he held his fingers, Clint squeezed him back, the strength of his grip was good. He cleaned him off with the wipes and carefully towelled him dry, all the time praising him, telling him how pleased Clint had made him. The sniper's normally sharp eyes were unfocused and his smile was kind of goofy but he responded to everything Phil said to him with a nod or a few slurred words. He was totally high on endorphins which made the older man smile. He couldn’t have wished for better tonight.

Phil picked up a bottle of water from the nightstand, twisting the cap off it. He reached under Clint's head lifting it gently off the mattress and supported his neck with his hand and forearm so he wouldn't choke.

“Drink a little for me, Clint. Not too much,” he added as the sniper tried to guzzle down the whole bottle which had the inevitable result of it dribbling down his chin mixing with a little sweat that had pooled in the hollow of his throat. Phil wanted to lick it away but quickly pushed the thought out of his head. He needed to take care of Clint now and get him comfortable not respond to the part of his brain that controlled his sexual urges… or his dick for that matter which was currently making a valiant attempt to stir back to life.

Carefully setting him back down when Clint had had enough, Phil covered him with the throw then set about removing the ropes from his wrists and ankles, checking each one to make sure there was no damage to his skin. He noted his wrists, the left in particular, had compression marks due to the struggling. Although he wasn’t worried knowing those would disappear within a short period of time, Phil gave them a gentle massage keeping his touch light.

“How are you feeling, Clint? You doing okay?”

The other man nodded. “M’kay. M’good. Really, really good.”

Phil smiled. “Are you hungry?”

Clint shook his head. “Not hungry, thirsty.”

“Okay. Can you sit up for me?”

Clint pulled himself into a sitting position causing the throw to slide down his chest. Phil swallowed thickly as that beautifully sculptured torso was unveiled again. He knew he would never get tired of seeing Clint naked.

Clint leaned against Phil’s body for a moment while he got used to being upright again. He felt exhausted but amazing, like he was floating. Sex was always good with Phil… fuck no, it was great… but this? He had no words.

When he was ready, Phil wrapped him up in the throw then guided him over to the chair explaining he needed to change the sheet and make the bed again. Clint nodded and accepted the bottle of Gatorade Phil placed into his hand. He smiled up at him. Phil stroked his face before cupping his chin and leaning down to kiss him softly on the lips.

“So good for me.”

Although he'd been patient and careful with Clint, with the bed he was much quicker and more efficient with his movements, undoing everything he did earlier. Task finished, he stripped out of his clothes smiling as Clint followed his every move; every stretch of his body, every movement of muscle, every patch of pale, freckled skin as it was unwrapped like a precious gift for him.

“Fuck, you're gorgeous, Phil,” Clint told him.

With an embarrassed flush spreading across his cheeks, Phil stalked across to him as he stood up from the chair, the throw dropping from his shoulders. Phil gently pulled him into an embrace as Clint nuzzled into the curve of his neck. They stood like that for a few moments before Phil broke the peaceful silence.

“Do you need anything else?”

“Nah. I'm good.”

Phil noted Clint's words were clearer than before meaning he was beginning to come down from his high. He'd have to watch carefully now for any signs of sub drop. He didn't think it would happen, Clint hadn't been down for long or too deep but this was his first time so it wouldn't hurt to be vigilant.

“How about bed and sleep then?”

“No hogging the covers,” he grinned into Phil's neck.

“No promises,” Phil returned with an amused smirk. They both knew Clint was the cover thief.

When they were settled, Phil wrapped himself around the younger man holding him close. “Thank you,” he murmured happily into Clint's neck. “Thank you for allowing me the privilege of sharing this with you. I wish I could explain how happy you've made me.”

Clint wriggled back against Phil's body until he was satisfied every part of him that could was touching the older man. He’d almost broken Phil's heart tonight and to repay him for being a jackass, Phil had chosen to fulfil Clint's every desire - the ropes; marking him with his come; then taking such good care of him afterwards. He’d never felt more loved.

“Does that mean we can do it again?” he asked.

“I’d like that.”

“I love you, Phil,” Clint whispered, bringing Phil's knuckles to his lips to kiss them gently.

“I love you too,” he replied, returning the gesture pressing his lips against Clint’s neck. “Sleep now. You’ve earned it.”

It was almost a repeat of the words he spoke the weekend he was called out on an emergency but this time the phone didn’t ring and they were left in peace for the next twenty-nine hours.


	9. Over the Moon (About your Son)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil and Clint finally confront Fury about their secret relationship, but no one is ready for the reaction they get.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is folks, the last chapter! Thank-you for hanging in with us all that time. I couldn't have done this with out my co-author Lola381pce. I do have one last sequal planned to do by myself but there is no telling when I will be able to post it. Now with out further ado, I present the epilog. Read and enjoy.

Epilogue

Over the Moon (About Your Son)

 

It had been three weeks since the Gala. Which also happened to be the night Phil's best friend’s adult son became his boyfriend. Said adult son had also been the same man he had been sleeping with for months who was,  once upon a time , whole-heartedly against relationships. Which was great, he was head over heels in love with Clint, and Clint loved him back. So it all sounded spectacular, except his friend still didn't know they were together. 

 

It was Friday afternoon and Phil had taken off from work early to meet Clint for lunch at Lola's Diner in the Heights, just north of Houston proper. The sniper had just  finished his shift and was in his HPD t-shirt and basketball shorts. After the waitress gave Phil his seared tuna salad and Clint his roast beef and cheddar sandwich, Clint pounced on the subject they had both been putting off for some time. 

 

“Okay what gives?” Clint asked with a mouthful of roast beef shoved in his cheek.

 

“What do you mean?” Phil said as he picked at his salad. 

 

“You know exactly what I mean. You've been all… weird lately. It's about pop isn't it?”

 

Phil sighed. It had to happen sometime. “I'm happier than I've ever been with you but…”

 

“But…?”

 

“But it doesn't feel right being in an actual relationship behind his back. He's my best friend, Clint.” 

 

“Yeah I know. And he's my pop. But if we tell him he’ll absolutely lose it.”

 

“Don't be ridiculous, sweetheart. This is Nick Fury we’re talking about here. He wouldn't lose his composure. He'll just kill one of us and no one will ever find the body. The other will probably lose his knee caps,” Phil said completely deadpan. 

 

Clint huffed. “Yet you still want to tell him.”

 

“The longer we wait the worse it will be.”

 

“Okay. You're right, I know.” The sniper paused to take another bite of his sandwich. “Well… you've known him longer than me. Is there a way to soften the blow? Butter him up? Like I dunno. Booze him up a bit? He can't catch us if he's stumbling.”

 

“Clint, you're brilliant!” Phil reached across the table and kissed Clint square on the mouth with a loud smack. 

 

“Whoa! Slow down there! I was only joking. He would just kill us when he sobered up.”

 

“No, I didn't mean the getting him drunk part. The buttering him up part. We’ll take him to a nice steak house and let him order whatever he wants. That'll put him in a good mood. I think it's our best shot.”

 

“Sorry but I don't think that's a such great idea. Pop has expensive taste and a black hole for a stomach but I don't make an expensive taste salary.”

 

“That's alright. I'll cover everything.”

 

“Oh, in that case it's a great idea.”

 

Not wanting to delay things any longer, Phil’s first call was to Marcus’ favorite steak house to make the reservations while Clint stole pieces of tuna off his plate.  No amount of glaring could persuade Clint to stop so Phil rolled his eyes resigned to the fact that his lunch would probably be gone, mostly if not completely, before he finished on his cell phone. 

 

His second call was to Clint’s pop. The younger man nearly stopped breathing as he listened to the conversation.

 

“Marcus, I know you've been wanting Clint and I to get to know each other better so I thought I'd take you two out to dinner next Friday… yes the reservation is already made… no, no occasion… yes I'll take care of everything I just want you both to have a good time… Great! I'll see you both at Ruth Chris Steak House next Friday at nineteen hundred hours.”

 

“We're all set, Clint, other than finding you something nice to wear.”

 

“Oh boy! A monkey suit; it's a dream come true,” Clint replied sarcastically. 

 

“So glad you're on board with this.” Phil replied deadpan. “Now we just need to figure out what to say.”

 

*****

 

When Clint arrived at the restaurant he was escorted to their table where his pop and Phil were waiting for him. The  short distance felt like a walk to the executioner's block. But at least they were prepared. They spent the entire week leading up to that night figuring what they would say. They had a whole speech planned and even had one for how to defend their relationship. They had rehearsed it every night. As usual Phil had backup plans for everything that could possibly go wrong. They even bought new clothes for the occasion. Phil was in a charcoal suit with a white shirt and a blue and silver striped tie. Clint was in a black suit with a lavender shirt and purple tie. Knowing his pop, Marcus would be in all black. 

 

When Clint arrived at the table he was greeted by a generic smile from Phil and a Stern Look from his pop (who was indeed in all black.)

 

“What the hell do you think you're doing, son? Your uncle Cheese wants to do something nice for us and you show up late. Well ... joke’s on you, little shit, we started without you,” Marcus said as he  motioned to their half full glasses. 

 

“It's all the stupid paperwork we have to do. I don't know why the criminals always want to run. We're just gonna catch them then we're in a bad mood from the extra paperwork. I don't see why they think it's a good idea,” Clint repeated as he took his seat at the round table between Phil and his pop. He couldn't very well tell him the truth that it was a ploy to not give away their secret till they were ready. 

 

As if on cue the waiter arrived with the appetizer the two other men had ordered. Clint could tell already the night would cost Phil a pretty penny. The appetizer was a chilled seafood tower with mussels, shrimp, crab legs, and lobster tail and claws. He had no doubt that was his father's doing. Before the waiter left Clint ordered himself the same drink his pop and Phil, which he found out was the best (and most expensive) top shelf scotch the restaurant's bar carried. 

 

While they enjoyed the array of seafood they kept the talk light and placed their orders for dinner. Marcus ordered the aged porterhouse for two (which he had no plans on sharing), Phil ordered the lamb chops and Clint stuck with a good ol’ ribeye steak.  When their meals arrived with another round of drinks they set their plan into action. 

 

“So, pop there's something I've been wanting to talk to you about. Well tell you really.”

 

“You’re straight and you knocked up your secret girlfriend? I'm not gonna be called grandpa, pick something else.” Marcus said before taking a bite of his expensive steak. 

 

Clint rolled his eyes. “No, pop. Remember the day I found the stray puppy Artemis, you said you wanted me to find someone so I wouldn't be a lonely dog hoarder?”

 

“Yeah I remember.”

 

“Well… I found someone. But I know you may not approve so hear me out before you say anything.”

 

Marcus merely nodded and continued to eat. 

 

Clint took a deep breath then reached for Phil's hand to hold it on the table, but Marcus’s expression never changed. 

 

“Pop… Phil and I have been seeing each other since the rodeo. And we've been in a relationship since the night of the Gala.”

 

Giving Clint's hand a gentle squeeze in support, Phil spoke next.

 

“Marcus, I understand this may come as a shock to you but I love Clint dearly. He means the world to me. I know you may feel a sense of betrayal and I'm sorry for that but we've talked it over and we won't stop seeing each other. I hope that won't cost me your friendship but I'll accept any consequences necessary to stay with Clint,” Phil told him with faux confidence. 

 

“Also I want to point out if you kill us now you'll be stuck with the giant bill and… Phil makes me happy, pop. I love him.”

 

The table was deathly silent with the three men just starting at each other until Marcus spoke several minutes later. “Are you fellas done?”

 

“Yes, Marcus that's it,” Phil said calmly though inside he shook with fear worried he may be forced to choose between his friendship and his boyfriend. It would be painful but he knew,  without doubt, he would choose Clint.  His relationship with Marcus would be a lot to give up; almost half a lifetime of watching each other’s back, getting falling down drunk, taking care of each other when a minutely planned mission became a shitstorm. It would lie heavy on his heart but his love for Clint was too much to let go. He just prayed it wouldn’t come to it.

 

Marcus nodded then took a sip of his scotch. “Man, you two are morons,” he said as he shook his head in disappointment. 

 

“What?” both men asked in utter confusion.

 

“Who the hell do you think set you two up? You sure as hell weren't gonna find each other on your own.”

 

“Set us up?” both men echoed

 

“Aw hell! Are you people or parrots? Well you're definitely idiots that's for sure. How was it not obvious? ‘Phil, help my son find a job, help my son find a house, let my son spend the night, help my son rescue a puppy’. Damnit I want to be a grandfather and it's easier for couples to adopt. I'm okay with gramps or pawpaw by the way. Well I'm just glad you two clowns finally got your shit together. It's about damn time.”

 

Phil and Clint were speechless. They had been prepared to defend their love and sleep with one eye open, not find out Marcus had planned everything from the start. 

 

Marcus ordered another round of drinks and three creme brules for them for dessert. “Sure is expensive being a moron isn't it?” he asked as he took a sip of his fresh beverage.

 

Marcus moved to continue eating, but Phil's hand shot out to stop his arm, giving his friend a befuddled look. The two men stared at each other for what felt like hours but was likely only minutes, completely oblivious to Clint's presence. 

 

“I don't understand,” Phil finally said to break the silence. 

 

“What's not to get, Cheese? I set a trap for you fools and you both fell for it hook, line, and sinker.”

 

Phil's expression began to look more pained than confused.  “But… Why me? Why set your friend up with your  son ?”

 

Even with one eye, Marcus stared sternly into Phil's as he spoke. “Since the day I met that boy he has turned out to be the biggest pain in the ass I've ever known. He's reckless, careless, hard headed, downright stubborn, and at times, completely oblivious… But he's also my son, and the most important person in the world to me. So if there is  anyone I need to keep my one good eye on, it's him.  And  you , Phil Coulson, are my one good eye. ”

 

Phil slowly released the breath he'd been holding and carefully pulled his hand away to lean back in his chair as the meaning of his friend's words washed over him. Marcus trusted, no,  knew  he would take care of his son like no one else could. 

 

He was shaken out of his musings when Marcus clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Besides, when I say ‘If you ever break his heart, I'll break your knees’ I know,  you know, I'll do it,” the older man told him cheerfully before resuming his meal. 

 

Phil nodded dumbly before  he picked up his fork and put another piece of lamb in his mouth, chewing it thoughtfully .

 

A moment later Phil excused himself to use the facilities. Once he was gone Marcus leaned over to talk to Clint as they waited on dessert. “So…when’s the wedding?”

 

Clint blushed and ducked his head. “I have to figure out how to keep him first.”

 

Marcus smiled warmly at Clint - which he hadn't done since Clint's college graduation. “Son, at this point, I don't think you could get rid of him if you wanted to.”

 

Clint smiled back, with his cheeks even redder. “Pop, I really hope you're right about this one”

 

“I am. Just wait and see.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come hang with us on tumbler purpletie797 & Lola381pce
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> The post can be found on Purpletie797 ''s page
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> http://lola381pce.tumblr.com/


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